Save Me If You Dare
by angryoldmen
Summary: 20 is up. I want to thank my faithful reviewers. I love you all. bows --- Duplexplicis has a strong hold of Hermione and it looks like Snape is controlling the strings.... --- WARNINGS: sex, drugs, and the good girl gone bad. --- partially HGSS,HGRL
1. Save Me If You Dare

Sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to the young girls face. She starred up at the ceiling consisting of old grey stones as her body was rocked back and forth in a steady rhythm. A sudden wave of nausea forced her to close her eyes tightly but the sickness from her stomach was beginning to invade her throat. Her mind could only concentrate on the deep moans coming from the man that was deriving so much pleasure from invading her body.  
  
"You like it, don't you" the voice stated more than asked. Oh Gods, that voice. The silkiness was buried deep under raspy pants that could only be cause by the purest form of sexual pleasure. The thrusting was becoming deeper and harder as Hermione tried to become numb to this utmost invasion of her being- mind, body, and soul. Her tear ducts were beginning to give away to the climbing pressure of the flood pushing against them. She heard one final, last raspy moan and felt her small belly being filled in a nauseating fashion. His grown body collapsed on Hermione's fragile frame. After a moment, he rolled off with a pleasurable sigh and laid on his back with his fingers intertwined as if he had just finished a thanksgiving supper. He looked at her. She couldn't see it, but she could feel his glare pierce into her back.  
  
"You need to get going." That silky voice demanded.  
  
"I know." Hermione replied in a weak voice that wasn't hers. It had been stolen months ago. She tried to cover her naked body as she collected her clothes simultaneously; completely aware of the disgusting stickiness in between her legs. Even worse, she could feel him smirk at her embarrassment from behind her back.  
  
"Do you mind handing me my tea?" he asked in an authoritarian voice as a saucer and a small cup appeared on the desk on the other side of the room. This was part of his game- the humiliation factor- he could of easily magiced it into his own hand, but he always got a sick pleasure out of making her play the servant girl and she couldn't say no. She picked up the drink with a shaky hand causing the porcelain rattle against each other and handed it to him.  
  
"Good girl" he cooed as he accepted his tea and molested the spot in between his thighs with his free hand.  
  
Hermione pulled her robes tightly behind her and began to walk out the door into the empty dungeon corridors leading towards Gryffindor tower and the sanctuary of her private room given to her via head girl badge.  
  
"Hermione!" a friendly voice called in greeting from behind her. Hermione panicked, she quickly struggled to tuck the sweated strands of hair behind her ears. She could only pray that her flushed cheeks and the fresh smell of sex weren't as obvious to them as it was to her.  
  
"Oh, hello Professor" she greeted trying to force a smile.  
  
"Arghhh" he dramatically sighed, "you know I rather you call me Remus. Im still having a hard time readjusting to this Professor thing.So what are you doing down here, visiting Snape?" He chuckled kiddingly.  
  
Hermione's smile altered, and she could tell he noticed by the wrinkle of concern that developed across his brow right below one of the more prominent grey streaks in his otherwise brown hair.  
  
She tried to regain herself, "No, of course not, I just thought I heard something down here and decided to inspect."  
  
"Right, Head Girl duties." He wasn't buying it but decided not to push it any farther.  
  
There was a short awkward pause that disturbed Hermione more than she could imagine, "Yes, well I must get too bed, it's late." She responded and quickly walked away from the potentially dangerous situation. Her heart was pounding out of her chest begging for a chance to escape the anxieties of the night. She mumbled "Nietzsche" to a portrait of a philosophical looking wizard a couple of spaces down from the Fat Lady which gladly opened to reveal her private quarters. Hermione rushed in and tore off her clothes as if they were burning her skin, she couldn't stand the smell of him that seemed to attach itself to her skin, it was like fire. She entered the private bath and turned on a faucet that dispensed a lavender scent with the water. She needed something, a cure for being her, and she found it in the pocket of her robes. She gently stepped into the bath and placed the bottle on the edge and starred at it for a moment. Like every other night, she felt a ping of regret, as if she shouldn't be doing this, but she couldn't help herself. Hermione untwisted the cap and carefully tapped some of the light blue powder onto the tile, letting it contrast against the white purity of the bathroom. She scrambled back out of the bathroom and grabbed the short straw from one of the cabinets and rushed towards the powder. Crouched down on all fours like a savage, she inhaled the substance in one line. Oh god, oh god, yes. That was it. She leaned her head back and held the unused nostril closed as she inhaled. She gasped as it passed the barrier between her sinuses and went straight to her brain. Pupils contracted. A wave of perfection swept from her fingertips to her toes. Her body slinked down into the bathwater and leaned her head against the tile. She thanked Snape for introducing her to this wonderful substance, condoning the fact that in return he took her body whenever he pleased and she had begun to cooperate out of habit. Of course, at first, it wasn't like this, she was a young girl seduced by an older man promising her the greatest pleasure of her life and allowing her to take a small amount of the duplexplicis to make her more "pleasurably cooperative". That was all it took, one dose and she gave her body to him and he failed to give it back.  
  
For the past few months, she knew what she had to do to get her fix, she had to please him the way Duplexplicis pleased her. In effect, she had become his whore. A sick thought really. Hogwart's finest on her knees in between a professor's legs, head bobbing, all the while starring at the little brown vile he was twirling with his left hand.  
  
Hermione crawled out of the bathtub in an barely-conscious state, still feeling the effects of the Duplexplicis, her naked body laying on the tile with a drug induced grin across her face and closed eyes, like that of a child dreaming on Christmas eve- but her life was no holiday, at least not anymore. 


	2. What You Don't Know Can't Hurt You

The next morning, Hermione's internal alarm clock was awakened by the streak of light playing on her face through the stained glass window of the bathroom. Reality hit her like a boulder dropped from the Sears Tower. Tears appeared in her eyes as she still lay naked on the bathroom's tiled floor. What had happened to her? How could she let things go this far? She huddled her legs against her chest in the fetal position wishing she had some of Dorothy's red slippers where she could just click her heels together three times and wake up in her bed at home. Better yet, she wished she could be 12 again, and never receive the letter that was supposed to be one of the best opportunities of her lifetime, a chance to explore her skills. Only now, that she was in 7th year, had she felt like she discovered only a few of the dirty secrets of the wizarding society. Unlike she led herself to believe, she wasn't protected from all things evil just because she was inside the castle.  
  
Noticing that the sun was already appearing over the high three tops of the Forbidden Forest, she realized she was almost late for classes. She went into the living quarters and found that her bed was made and a clean, unwrinkled uniform was hanging in her wardrobe. The house elves had evidently come- and they definitely saw her. This was something that had bothered her for ages. How often did they see a situation like the night's prior? Probably more often than she could of ever imagined. Hermione quickly dressed herself and pulled her hair into a bun, and grabbed her books.  
  
Potions with the Slytherin's, and what used to be one of her favorite class. She sat down next to Neville Longbottom, as always. Snape came out of the supply closet in his usual smirk and black attire.  
  
"Today, of course, is the proper time to see how quickly it will take you to blunder of your own two feet causing potentially deadly errors while making Evasorum. I know I'm giving you too much credit, but do you any of you know the three main ingredients we will be using today?" He paused and looked around the room, daring someone to raise their hand, "Anyone?"  
  
"Powdered Elfkaun. Sebrona Leaves. Two feathers from a Seagronell." Hermione whispered to herself, she knew the answer but couldn't make herself speak up. Not out of fear of being called a know-it-all, but of something she couldn't explain.  
  
Snape looked directly at her with an evil grin, "What about you Miss Granger? You've been awfully quiet lately. I wonder what it took to shut you up."  
  
Her cheeks went red with embarrassment and she felt like she was going to cry. That bastard had taken everything from her. She looked down at her hands in her lap to avoid eye contact until he had chosen another victim but she could feel the penetrating stares and snickering from her classmates. Finally, he had chosen Paverati, she giggled ditzily with her 'im a girl, I don't need to know anything' attitude.  
  
Eventually, the ingredients were handed out and Hermione had made the substance in her cauldron the required redish orange. While she stirred the mixture with her wand, she watched Snape out of the corner of her eye. He was standing behind Pansy, bending low enough to say something in her ear that no one else would possibly hear and she simply giggled. Another victim? Perhaps. Her eyes glanced towards the desk in the front of the classroom, the very desk that started the end of it all.  
  
At the beginning of the semester, Hermione was still a bright eyed, bushy haired girl with a craving for knowledge that could never be quenched. She had been in Potions class, going over various potions they would be learning, asking questions with an evil glare daring someone to answer them.  
  
He stalked around the classroom, standing in front of student's faces, asking questions he knew they didn't know the answer to just to watch them squirm. After making Pavarati Patil cry, he moved on to his next victim, Neville Longbottom.  
  
"Mr. Longbottom, I'll try to make this one relatively easy." He glared "What is the essential ingredient of the Draft of Peace?"  
  
Neville was shivering in his seat before the professor even said anything, not he was on the verge of convulsions. He was looking around for help, only getting snickers from the Slytherin side of the room and faces filed with sympathy from his housemates. To Hermione, it was like watching someone beat a puppy. Snape knew he didn't know for the same reason that he failed his OWL. It was just cruel to do that to him.  
  
From the other side of the room, there was a squeal of laughter coming from none other than Malfoy's henchmen. Snape turned quickly to give them the glare of death that had never failed him once. In the meantime Hermione scribbled "essence of hellebore" on the bottom of her scroll and shoved it under Neville's nose.  
  
Snape turned his attention back towards his intended victim. "Say something boy, or are you as dimwitted as you look?"  
  
"Essence of hellebore" he said confidently. Snape thoroughly shocked, turned his glare towards Hermione.  
  
"Fine. Ms. Granger, see me after class."  
  
"But sir," Longbottom pleaded, "she didn't do anything. I swear"  
  
"That is of no concern to me" he snapped and walked back to the front of the classroom.  
  
When class was over, Hermione dutifully stayed behind.  
  
"Yes, sir?" she asked in her confident tone. He looked her over from head to toe as if he was sizing up an opponent. Little did he know that at this point, he had decided he wanted to change her life. He was tired of their verbal competitions; he wanted her to belong to him.  
  
He stood up and opened up a drawer from his desk and handed her a small bottle filled with a light blue liquid. The substance was a fine grained light blue powder with a shimmering iridescence that same light blue but shimmering with a iridescence.  
  
"It's called Duplexplicis. Isn't it tempting?" He said letting one of his long, lean fingers slide against her cheek causing chills to be sent up her spine. He opened one of the drawers of his desk, allowing Hermione a glimpse at several bottles of the same magical light blue substance along with a small mirror and what looked like hollow quills very similar to a straw. He pulled out the pane of mirror and one of the quills, took the bottle from her hand and tapped some of it out onto the glass.  
  
Hermione was weary to say the least, she looked at the door, halfway contemplating escape from this side of her Professor that she had never seen before and wishing for the sanctuary of her room or her friends, Ron and Harry.  
  
"What's wrong Ms. Granger?" he asked silkily.  
  
"Nothing." She said nervously, never taking her eyes off the powder.  
  
"I think you would enjoy it, care to give it a go?" He picked up the quill and pushed the powder on the glass into two, long, thin lines. With his left hand, he pulled his greasy black hair and leaned down towards the table, giving her a sly grin as he did so. In one slick movement, he held the quill to his nose and Hermione watched as one of the lines disappeared. He stood upright and leaned back, inhaling again. She could see that whatever this process was, it was giving him immense pleasure, he breathed in deeply enjoying the effects of the drug and let out a sigh of satisfaction. Snape turned to Hermione with a broad smile, "It won't hurt you, I promise."  
  
At this point he looked at Hermione with his penetrating stare from behind his glassy eyes, the pupils constricted so tightly that she could almost distinguish the dark brown from the black dot in the middle. He took the quill and handed it to her like an offering to the gods. Hermione was unsure what to do; she was somewhat horrified from what she had just witnessed. She wasn't sure what had just happened but she knew it was something that edged on the bad side of her moral spectrum. In the summer of her fourth year, her overprotective parents had conveniently left a small pamphlet on her bed titled "Drugs: What Every Teenager Should Know." Inside, she found a couple of short paragraphs stating the different types of drugs, and that drugs turned nice girls into terrible people who did terrible things and would suffer a terrible death- the usual propaganda, but enough to register in Hermione's memory.  
  
"Is it similar to cocaine?" she asked slight intrigued.  
  
"No you silly girl, cocaine is for muggles. This is called Duplexplicis," he said picking up the bottle filled with the powder substance, "much better."  
  
Hermione bent over the desk slightly, taking a closer look. She wasn't sure what happened next, but the quill was in her hand. She put it in her left nostril, looking up at Snape for confirmation where he nodded. Hermione looked down at her reflection in the mirror; her near adult facial features had begun to show, giving her a very elegant look with higher cheekbones and gorgeous light brown eyes. Was she going to do this? Yes. She placed her finger on the right side of her nose and pushed it in, as Snape had done, and slid the tip of the quill slightly above the light blue line as she inhaled deeply.  
  
Her first reaction was the stinging sensation as the fine grained powder slid up her nose and into her sinus cavity, quickly giving away to the ecstasy that swallowed her body as it crossed the barrier into her brain.  
  
"Oh God" she mumbled as she leaned her head back. "Oh God, this is fantastic. I feel perfect."  
  
She was floating, enjoying the initial rush of the drug as the feeling spread throughout her body. Although it felt far away, she could feel lips on her bare neck and eventually on her mouth. Snape was grasping the hair of the intoxicated girl as he pushed his lips on hers. She didn't realize it, but she was kissing him back. A moment later, Snape had cleared the desk. He picked up Hermione small body and placed her on the edge having her legs dangle off the edge. Her head was still leaned back, enjoying this new, foreign feeling that overpowered her conscious thought. Completely unconscious of the predicament she was in, she only let out soft moans as she felt her robes and sweater being pulled off and thrown into the wooden chair behind the desk. Lips and a tongue flicked against her nipple, sending uncontrollable pleasure up her spine. She laid down on the desk, her eyes glazed over but wiggling in response to the tongue moving down her stomach and coming to a wonderful landing on her clit. She could feel all the wonderful sensations, but could hardly move to stop it if she tried.  
  
The next thing she knew she felt a slight ting of pain and then the most amazing feeling as her body rocked back and forth on the wooden desk. Her fogged mind didn't know where it was coming from, but she didn't want it to stop. 


	3. Resist Temptation Or Not

Potions was a disaster, Hermione couldn't stand the way he played with her mind. But was she wrong to expect any less? In the back of her mind, she had always thought of Snape as simply being misunderstood. Being naïve, she thought that perhaps he just had the hard exterior to protect himself and that underneath it all, he was kind and caring. Silly girl.  
  
She rushed to her next class, Herbology. Personally, she didn't care for the class too much. Hermione wasn't exactly born with a green thumb. In fact, she tried raising plants at home and it seemed that if she dared to look at them they would be dry and wilted the next day. But being herself, she did what she had to do to meet the exceptionally high standards she had set for her academics.  
  
In greenhouse number 6, she stood patiently listening and taking notes as the Professor explained the complicated process of growing and harvesting a Rubinisus plant- a plant that weakens the effects of certain types of neurosis. She stood next to a blonde Hufflepuff girl that was unusually dimwitted. She seemed to have constant look of confusion on her face and if anyone asked her a question, especially something concerning academics, she just tilted her head to the side and starred until the questioner realized there was no hope and walked off.  
  
From where she stood, she could see the backs of Harry and Ron. Puberty had done them well and things had changed, how could she have expected them to remain the fabulous three forever? The first day of seventh year, they stepped onto the Hogwarts Express as the two most wanted males of Hogwarts. Ron had grown out of his scraggly red haired, pumpkin shaped face and into this tall, fit, sexually delightful 18 year old male. It was a given that Ron had turned into the best looking Weasley, even surpassing Bill's unforgotten good looks.  
  
As for Harry, he was destined to be the object of sexual frustration for every female at Hogwarts- even some of the males to tell the truth. He had grown up, a full 6'2'', his shaggy black hair giving him a look the girls would swoon over.  
  
Needless to say, puberty had treated them both very well. In between the two of them, they had shagged a large majority of the female population at Hogwarts. In the loo between classes, Hermione would overhear conversations completely surrounding who was better in bed.  
  
"Oh god, Harry for sure. He does this thing his hips." "No, no. Ron, have you seen what he can do with his tongue?" "But Potter is such a shag. I mean, his dick is big enough to play stickball with." The last one came straight from Pansy Parkinson's mouth.  
  
Doesn't say much about Malfoy, does it? Either way, Hermione was by herself now. Not because she was forced out of the shaggilicious duo's agenda, but because she preferred it that way.  
  
At the end of the day, Hermione was exhausted. She sat at her desk, trying to ignore the loud noises coming from the Gryffindor common room down the corridor. N.E.W.T.S were only two months away and she had become anal about her rigorous study schedule.. Her head was hurting, and her skin felt itchy and uncomfortable on her body. She looked at the small red velvet box on the bedside table. Hermione's mother had given her the box during Christmas Break. At one point it was filled with her favorite dark chocolate. Now it contained something she wanted even more- Duplexplicis. She tried to concentrate on her Arithmancy, attempting to write a paper characterizing the distinct difference between Chaldean and Greek versions of the divination practice.  
  
Before she had time to stop herself she was tearing the top of the box and grabbing the small amount of Duplexplicis and preparing it. She inhaled three thick lines and leaned against a nearby wall while the effect hit her like a bullet. Gods, yes. Perfection in powder form. Her eyes were wide open, glossed over and pupils the size of a pinpoint. 


	4. You Belong To Me

It had been two days since her last dose of Duplexplicis, and it must have been obvious. Hermione sat in potions, taking notes and preparing her batch of a weak, but useful defense potion which only consisted of bezoar and ginger- the challenge lied in the complicated heating process which would make it a nice light blue with the consistency of melted taffy. Her hand was shaking as she held her wand to the flame.  
  
"Hermione, are you okay?" Neville asked in a meek voice.  
  
She looked at him with a faked smile, "Yes, just a little tired, that's all." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his cauldron bubbling violently like black tar. "Neville, your cauldron, how long have you had it on heat?" she hissed. He looked at his cauldron desperately trying to lower the flame to no avail.  
  
"Conglacio!" she hissed at the bubbling cauldron that looked in danger of exploding, immediately causing it to freeze.  
  
"Thank you Hermione" Neville whispered, trying to avoid the attention of the Professor.  
  
"Yes, Ms. Granger, thank you." She smelled his scent before she heard him. The voice on the back of her neck made her hair stand on end.  
  
"Mr. Longbottom, do tell, can you do anything on your own?" He snarled at the chubby boy. Neville's cheeks flushed bright red. "What were you trying to make? Look at the color, it's black." He looked over at Hermione, she could see the enjoyment in his eyes.  
  
"Ms. Granger, on the other hand has the appropriate color, in fact, I think shes quite fond of it, aren't you Ms. Granger?" She knew what he was referencing too.  
  
Class was over and Snape dismissed the students, "Except you Ms. Granger, I would like a word with you."  
  
Hermione's breathing stopped for a second, oh gods. She gathered her quills and scrolls and shoved them a leather tote before walking to the desk where the professor sat in his usual position- leaned back slightly, his hands steepled.  
  
"Yes Professor?" She asked as calmly as she could, trying not to let him get to her.  
  
"I noticed your hands are shaking, is there a problem?" he asked with a smug grin. She looked down, and indeed, the hand holding her leather tote was shaking. He knew the root of her problem- Duplexplicis. She had exhausted her supply two days prior and refused to do what it took to get another dose.  
  
"Yes, they are. Perhaps it is because I missed breakfast this morning."  
  
"Mhmm" he grinned.  
  
She gave him a disgusted look, turned on her heel and left the room.  
  
***  
  
By lunch, she wasn't just shaking, she was suffering from cold sweats and a headache. She tried simple pain relief spells that she had learned from Madame Pomfrey, but they only began to alleviate the problem. Hermione attempted to eat the roast on her plate, but she felt nauseated and the hand that held the fork failed to cooperate, it only rattled against the porcelain of the plate. Ron, Harry, and Ginny had noticed and were watching her intently.  
  
"Hermione, are you okay?" Ron asked genuinely concerned.  
  
She stood up and grabbed for her tote, only to drop it. "Yes, I'm fine" she said a little louder than she would of normally and stomped out the door of the Great Hall. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around quickly to see Harry looking worried.  
  
"What's going on?" He asked.  
  
"Nothing, I told you, I'm fine." She looked over his shoulder to see Snape looking at her above the rim of his butterbeer.  
  
She began to run towards her room. "Voltaire!" she screamed at the portrait who gave a concerned look but opened obligingly.  
  
Hermione ran to the bathroom, digging through her drawers only to find the empty vile. She untwisted the cap and pounded it against her fist, trying desperately to get something. Unsuccessful, she ran to her red box and did the same to no avail. The pain of her throbbing head was unbearable and her entire body was shaking. She curled up in a ball on her bed, holding her head as tears started to appear on her cheeks.  
  
She felt a finger slide along her spine, she jumped up and found herself face to face with Snape.  
  
"What are you doing in here?" she commanded.  
  
"Youre very predictable, my dear." He sneered. "A picture of a philosopher at your entrance and of course you use Voltaire as a password."  
  
She couldn't stop crying. "What do you want from me?"  
  
"The question is, what do you want?" he replied, removing a vial from the pocket of his black robes. He fondled it with his hand and Hermione couldn't take her eyes off of it. He grinned and poured some onto the bedside table, daring her to take it. She couldn't help herself, the pain was too much to bear, she needed it to stop, she needed a fix. She scrambled off the bed and got on her knees in front of the table, snorting it as quickly as she could.  
  
That was it, right there. She stopped shaking, the pain was gone, she was in heaven. A wave started at her chest and spread throughout her body, to her fingertips and toes. She moaned in delight and collapsed on the floor.  
  
"Good girl." Snape cooed, petting her hair. "You owe me." 


	5. You Look Funny When You're Mad

After the initial surge wore off, Hermione opened her eyes. Snape was gone and the hand of the clock on her bedside table was barely visible above the ravaged red box, but she could see it was pointing to "Late for Class".  
  
Hermione had never taken Duplexplicis during the day, thus, she had never encountered this problem before. Her mind was foggy and still greatly under the influence, but she knew she had already missed Arithmancy and had just enough time to get to Defenses of the Dark Arts.  
  
With a slight drug induced grin and glassy eyes, she walked down the corridors and leaned against the wall outside of the Defenses of the Dark Arts classroom. A mass of fourth years flooded out the doors, giggling to each other or talking about the upcoming quidditch game between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw- a few of the boys expressing their wishes to shag the infamous Cho Chang. One of the shorter raven haired girls stopped in front of Hermione.  
  
"Hi Ms. Hermione" she chipped. This was Meghan Ravors, a professional brown- noser if she ever did see one. "Guess what! I was the only one to get an A on my Arithmancy exam in my whole class."  
  
"That's good Meghan" Hermione replied, shedding her usual prim and proper exterior. She bent down and ruffled the top of the younger girl's hair like you would do a child who just managed to make his first "poopers" in the toilet. "You're so cute." She cooed in her intoxicated state.  
  
The girl looked shocked, somewhat afraid and just scattered down the hallway. Hermione shrugged to herself and went back to her position against the stone wall, starring into space.  
  
A hand grabbed her shoulder, shaking her to get her attention. "'Mione!" Harry yelled.  
  
Hermione looked at him, trying to focus on his yes "Yes my dear?"  
  
He pulled her down the hallway as all the passerby's including Ron and Lavender looked on. Harry shoved her into the trophy room and placed her in front of a chair she simply collapsed in.  
  
"What is going on with you? One minute you look like you're going to barf, the next you're acting like your drunk. What the hell is going on?"  
  
Hermione giggled "Whenever you're mad, your eyebrows get all tense and you do like this" she attempted to mock him by scrunching up her face in several ways trying to get it right.  
  
Harry looked thoroughly concerned. He crouched down on his knees so he was eye to eye with one of the few people he would die to save. "Hermione, you just scarred that Rovers girl, everyone thinks you've gone mad"  
  
"I haven't gone mad, per say- more like sanely disabled." With this she leaned her head back, her neck resting on the back of the chair and eyes closed.  
  
Harry reached behind her and held her head up with his hands so that she had no choice but to look him in the eye.  
  
"Are you drunk, 'Mione? I mean, if you are, it's okay. We all do it. You can just go back to your room and sleep it off." He tried getting closer to smell her clothes for the slightest trace of alcohol.  
  
She playfully pushed him away "I told you I don't like to get pissed you silly boy."  
  
"Then what are you on?"  
  
"Nothing, I mean, unless you count that blue stuff."  
  
"What blue stuff Hermione?" he demanded, she looked at him and the drug smiled. Before he could force her to say anymore, Ron's head had appeared around the corner. "Lupin is wondering where you guys are."  
  
"Right, I'll be there in a minute." Harry responded.  
  
"Me too, mate." She raised her hand and giggled.  
  
He helped Hermione out of the chair. "Just go back to your room and sleep it off. We'll talk about it later." With that he motioned her toward the direction of Gryffindor tower with his hand on the middle of her back.  
  
"I'll talk to you after class" he promised. Hermione swayed slowly up towards the stairs.  
  
When Harry got into the class, Lupin was already giving a short lecture on the uses of the Unforgivables- something highly appropriate for the time of war that they were in.  
"Now, let's say someone attacks you, what is the first spell you use to protect yourself?"  
"Avada Kedavra?" some answered from the back of the class. Remus shook his head, "No, no, the first thing you do is disarm your opponent."  
Meanwhile, Harry and Ron shared a table in the back of the room; their heads leaned down in a quiet whisper discussing Hermione.  
"What should we do?" Ron asked.  
"I don't know," Harry responded, "I asked her what she was on, she mentioned some blue stuff."  
Meanwhile, in her room, Hermione was beginning to feel the panic and embarrassment from the afternoon's events crawl through her door of Duplexplicis induced satisfaction. She was ashamed for herself, and ashamed at the things she did for a fix. The nauseated feeling began in her throat and she felt like she was going to be sick. Then, she noticed the blue shimmer of a full glass vial left on the floor, obviously by the Potion's Professor. 


	6. I've Got You Fooled

Snape sat at the desk in his classroom. Having just dismissed his last class for the day, his head was throbbing. It seemed as if every generation of students deteriorated and became even more senseless than the last- with the exception of the fabulous Miss Granger. Then again, he wondered what Hogwarts would think if they saw what their precious Head Girl was up to now.  
  
He smirked at the thought and went into his stores, grabbing an unmarked white bottle and casting various charms to disarm the wards of a heavily disguised box containing a large amount of Duplexplicis. Snape set the two items on the wooden counter and carefully mixed a small amount of the white powder into the Duplexplicis.  
  
He wanted to kiss the bottle of whiteness for its effect on Granger. Why would a wizarding drug be addictive when they had magic on their side? That stupid girl, she probably thought Duplexplicis was addictive on its own. Without the magical white powder, Adixio, added, Snape wouldn't be able to enjoy the effects of withdrawl on the little know-it-all. He loved the look in her brown eyes begging just for one more bottle. It wasn't just desperation, it was embarrassment as well. He knew that when he wasn't around, she would mentally punish herself for being so weak and dependant on not only Duplexplicis, but him. But he had gotten what he wanted; she belonged to him now.  
  
Snape put the bottle of the magical mixture in the pocket of his robes and headed off towards Gryffindor Tower. It was late in the evening. Students were already done with dinner in the Great Hall and Severus Snape was pleased to find that they had already gone to their respective common rooms. When he reached the portrait of the philosopher writing thoughtfully, he looked around to make sure no one could see him.  
  
"Voltaire" he whispered to the portrait. The philosopher looked up with a smile. "No, my dear child, that is not the password." Then, the portrait continued writing.  
  
"Damn," Snape muttered to himself, he didn't think she would have changed it so quickly. He tried to think of another philosopher's name she would use as a password.  
  
"Nietzsche" he tried.  
  
The philosopher wagged his finger like one would do to a child, "That's not it, either. Don't you think you're a little old for the lady anyway?"  
  
"Oh, Shut up." Snape snapped, desperately racking his brain. "John Stuart Mill"  
  
The portrait smiled. "She's not a fan of utilitarianism; run along now."  
  
Snape was thoroughly aggravated by this point.  
  
"Kant."  
  
"No. Sorry, lad."  
  
"Avicenna. Pascal. Locke. Wittgenstein. Spinoza. Magee. Young,"Snape spat out, draining his mental archives of philosophers.  
  
The portrait only laughed.  
  
Snape, letting out a hefty sigh of aggravation, began to question Hermione's predictability. As he was about to whip out his wand and give the portrait something to really laugh about, a light bulb went off in his head.  
  
"Roberts," Snape said with confidence. The portrait stared at him and opened reluctantly. Of course she would choose Roberts; she's an obnoxious feminist and an American, to boot.  
  
Snape climbed inside carefully and saw Hermione's form on the crimson, velvet-covered bed with her back facing him. Crookshanks jumped off the seat below the window and came over to Snape to greet him with an alarmingly loud hiss while letting his red hair stand on end. The professor jumped back in surprise.  
  
"Pointless species," he mumbled and with a quiet, "Petrificus Totalus" the cat stopped in mid hiss, frozen with his paw raised in attack and gently fell on its side in its frozen state.  
  
He sat on the edge of the bed and whispered into her ear, letting his breath linger on her lobes, "Hermione." But he noticed something was wrong; her breathing was irregular. He turned her over and saw the girl he had ruined. Hermione's eyes had rolled into the back of her head and what looked like foam was coming out of the corner of her mouth.  
  
"Fuck," Snape mumbled, jumping up and noticing the empty vial laying on the floor. "Granger- what the fuck were you thinking," He for a pulse. It was weak, but at least it was there.  
  
He spun on his heel and walked as quickly to the dungeons as he could without attracting undue attention to himself. Snape went straight for his closet and quickly began to mix together an antidote for the situation Hermione had gotten herself into 


	7. Here Kitty, Kitty

Ron leaned back, kicked his feet over the arm of a lavishly stuffed red chair and began to untie his gloves.  
  
"Argh," he moaned, "quidditch practice was rough."  
  
Harry gave a nod of agreement as he untied his mud coated boots and finger- combed his hair, letting leaves and twigs fall to the floor. "Did you see Creevy and that bludger? Bloody hell, if I knew he could hit like that, I wouldn't have wasted so much time before letting him on the team," Harry said in admiration.  
  
"And Parvati Patil," Ron sighed. "Mate, did you get a look at her? I would do anything to trade places with her broom."  
  
"Harry! Ron!" Ginny cried, "You're tracking mud everywhere!"  
  
Ron let his feet drop to the floor and looked like a child just caught stealing a cookie before dinner. "Harry did it."  
  
"Whatever, you two; just clean it up," Ginny grinned, and walked past them toward her group of girlfriends. Harry couldn't help but look back and stare at her hips swaying side to side. An elbow nudged his ribs hard.  
  
"Hey," he looked at his best mate, "I couldn't help it."  
  
"She's my sister, you git!"  
  
Harry shrugged. Ron searched for his wand that was buried in the red cushions and cast a quick cleaning spell. He sat with his elbows resting on his knees.  
  
"So what about 'Mione?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "I don't know what's wrong with her, mate. I mean, did you see her today? She was pretty out of it."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Should we go check on her? I haven't seen her around since before Lupin's class."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
With that, the two boys changed clothes and exited through the portrait of the Fat Lady.  
  
"Is that her room?" Ron asked.  
  
"Yeah, it's the one with the old man on it."  
  
"I take offense to that," the portrait protested. "I'm simply youthfully disabled." Harry and Ron shared a smile.  
  
"Harry, look, it's not shut all the way."  
  
"Should we knock?"  
  
They shrugged and walked in. The two boys laid eyes on the spell-bound cat at the same time.  
  
"Woah! Look at Crookshanks," Ron said, bending down and poking the cat curiously. "Looks like Neville in first year."  
  
"Bloody hell! Hermione, are you okay?" Harry asked, walking toward the bed where Hermione's body lay.  
  
"Oh, Fuck!" Harry yelled, and Ron ran over. They both laid eyes on her comatose body. Only the white of her eyes were visible from her half closed lids, and she was shivering.  
  
In a panic, they looked at each other. "Go get Mme. Pomfrey!" Ron yelled.  
  
"No, no," Harry said, "I think it's that stuff she's been taking. I'm going to get Lupin, he'll know what to do. You stay here. She's still breathing; just watch her."  
  
Ron nodded, and Harry ran out the portrait toward the werewolf's office. Panting, he rushed in and found Remus Lupin at his desk leaning over a pile of scrolls.  
  
"Moony! Something is wrong with Hermione!"  
  
Remus looked up from his desk at the boy; he knew this was coming sometime. He jumped up, and grabbed his wand. "Is she breathing?"  
  
"I think so," Harry panted as they ran down the corridors. "Her eyes are all rolled back and white stuff is coming out of her mouth."  
  
As they rounded the corner of Gryffindor Tower, they heard a smooth voice.  
  
"Haven't seen you run like that for years, Lupin," Snape mocked.  
  
"I could use your help in here, Snape. Give me a hand."  
  
Snape surreptitiously patted the vial in his pocket and followed the two into Hermione's private quarters.  
  
"What is he doing here?" Ron asked, gesturing towards the Potion Master.  
  
"He's here to help," Lupin responded. Lupin rushed over and put his ear to her chest.  
  
"Help with what, may I ask?" Severus peered over the shoulder of his shorter colleague. "An overdose? I suppose I was wrong to expect more out of her, eh?"  
  
"You git, she might be dying." Ron exclaimed.  
  
"It's her own fault then."  
  
"Hermione!" Lupin exclaimed, gently slapping her face. "Say something; talk to me."  
  
No response. He turned her on her side, opening her mouth and examining her airways for anything clogged.  
  
"Look, Moony," Harry shoved an empty vial in front of his face. "This was on the floor."  
  
Snape took a deeper breath than usual as Remus untwisted the lid and dabbed a small grain on his tongue. "It's Duplexplicis. I smelled it on her this afternoon." With more strength than most thought he possessed, he picked Hermione's body up and rushed her to the bathroom, leaning her body against the toilet.  
  
"Listen Severus, I need you to go get something for this, an antidote or something. I know you know how," Lupin demanded. Snape glared at the implied accusation before exiting the room with one sweep of his black robes.  
  
"Sorry Hermione" he whispered before casting a spell with his wand pointed at the girl. "Aegrotus." Hermione's body suddenly came to life. She began to convulse as she vomited uncontrollably in his grasp. Ron stood in the doorway with his head turned and Harry looked on with worried intent.  
  
"It's okay, Hermione," Lupin said, crouched on his knees and rubbing her back comfortingly. "It's okay." Her watery brown eyes locked with Lupin's.  
  
"I'm so sorry," she mumbled before her body forced her to turn her attention back to the toilet. 


	8. Keeping Secrets

Groggily, Hermione opened her eyes to her familiar surroundings. She put her hand to her head, hoping this would some how make the throbbing go away.  
  
"She's awake!" Ron screamed a little too loud for Hermione's comfort, but she managed a slight smile anyway. She looked over and saw Lupin's head nodding against his chest and noted Harry's presence curled up on the foot of her bed, evidently snuggling with an unpetrified Crookshanks. Oh god, there came reality again- it hit her like a bullet in the chest. "I'm so sorry."  
  
Lupin stood up and looked down at her, "We're just glad you're alive, Hermione."  
  
"Yeah," Ron added, "looks like Snape isn't that bad after all. He must have ran to the dungeons because he was back with an antidote in no time." Hermione looked anxiously at her two friends and then at her Professor who seemed to know more than he let on.  
  
"Boys, let me have a moment with Hermione, will you?"  
  
Harry didn't say anything, but obligingly walked out behind Ron, rubbing his sore neck.  
  
"Looked like you were getting pretty comfy with the cat, mate."  
  
Hermione could see Harry nudge Ron, "Maybe I just like redheads."  
  
"Hey, stay away from my sister."  
  
"I meant you," he responded, making kissing noises.  
  
Lupin walked over, closed the entrance, and sat on the bed by Hermione.  
  
"What's going on with the Duplexplicis?" he asked seriously.  
  
She felt like hiding under the covers and leaving a note saying she  
would be back later, but when she looked at him, she couldn't even  
think.  
  
"What do you mean?" She asked, then felt like she should hit herself for saying such a stupid thing. "I don't know."  
  
"You could have killed yourself, you know that?" Lupin sighed and looked up at the ceiling as if he were asking the gods for an explanation. "What were you thinking Hermione?"  
  
"I don't know," Hermione meekly replied.  
  
"Where did you get it?" He asked causing Hermione's eyes to dart away from his.  
  
"I made it."  
  
He gave her a disbelieving look, "What is the main ingredient?"  
  
"Unicorn hair," Hermione spat out, relying on her knowledge of the color.  
  
"Wrong," Lupin sighed. "You can tell me, Hermione. We've already decided not to mention it to Dumbledore, but gods, knowing him, he already knows. I just need to know who gave it to you," his features hinted at having an idea, "no matter who it is."  
  
"You're not going to tell Dumbledore?" she asked.  
  
Lupin shook his head, "I don't believe it would be in your best interest at this time, but don't test me." He warned, "Now who gave you the Duplexplicis?"  
  
Hermione rolled over. "I told you, I made it," she protested. She felt like a child, but what was she supposed to do? Explain that she'd been sucking off her Potions Professor for a quick fix here and there as if it were no big deal?  
  
Lupin sighed again, "Alright, Hermione." He patted her on the back as he stood up, "Just know that if you, er, need someone, you know where to find me."  
  
With that, the werewolf left. Hermione's emotions were going haywire. Embarassment, a dab of guilt, a pinch of utter humiliation, a bit of anxiety and hatred for self. Stir, and you have a bushy haired Head Girl recovering from a drug overdose.  
  
She looked over at the clock and saw the hand pointed at "Lunch." Well, at least it was convenient enough for her to decide to overdose on the weekend. As she stood up and walked toward the bathroom, her mind registered a hint of brown glass against the stone floors tucked behind the leg of her armoire. Hermione bent down anxiously, only to find an empty bottle that had contained her almost cause of death at one point. She wanted to scream. Look at all she had been through, and the one thing she wanted was just a little bit of the magical blue powder.  
  
By the time she managed to bathe and get down to the Great Hall, most of the students had parted for Hogsmeade, but Hermione had a newfound hunger that had evaded her for a large portion of the semester. She filled her plate with two servings of chicken, four slices of bread and even a Shepard's pie that she usually despised.  
  
"Trying to gain some weight there, Granger?" a voice asked. She felt a breath on the back of her neck and saw a strand of blonde, almost-white, hair in the corner of her eye. She swallowed the food in her mouth and spun around.  
  
"Malfoy, go fiddle with your broomstick," she said looking, behind him "Or have Pansy do it for you; she's looking a bit jealous at the moment."  
  
Draco non-chalantly turned his head and took a look at his admirer at the Slytherin table before directing his attention back to Hermione.  
  
"Why don't you shine it for me?" he grinned. Hermione took out her wand and pointed it at his chest.  
  
He looked down and grinned, "Not very Head Girlish of you, now is it? Doesn't matter though, you'll have your badge taken away from you soon enough, Granger."  
  
Hermione sighed; she had been playing these games with him since she got on the Hogwart's Express. "What are you talking about, Malfoy?"  
  
Malfoy put a finger to the side of his nose and inhaled deeply before walking away and quietly laughing to himself.  
  
Hermione turned back to her butterbeer. How did he know? He couldn't. How would he? She tried to calm her nerves by telling herself he was just toying with her and happened to get lucky. Bastard.  
  
After she had gotten her fill of chicken and left behind second years playing exploding snap with debris flying and threatening her much needed eyesight, she decided she should probably study for NEWTS.  
  
While walking down the corridor, she saw peeves tormenting Meghan Rovers.  
  
"Give me back my quills, you stupid ghost!" she squeaked.  
  
"Potty mouth, Potty mouth!" Peeves squealed in his usual delight that came along with tormenting the younger students.  
  
"Peeves," Hermione said threateningly with her wand out and pointed, "Give those back, or I'll show you what I've learned this year." She smiled dangerously.  
  
Peeves dropped the quills as he floated backwards down the corridor, still taunting the younger Gryffindor. "Potty mouth!"  
  
"Argh," Meghan sighed, "I hate when he does that," she said more to herself than Hermione. After picking up her stuff, she looked at Hermione somewhat warily, "Thank you, Miss Granger."  
  
Hermione recalled their last interaction, "No problem." She went to follow Meghan across the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower, but found they decided to change before she got the change. She sighed and stuffed her wand back in her pocket, walking down the corridor toward another set of stairs.  
  
A firm grip landed on Hermione's shoulder. Surprised, she turned around only to have her face meet that of Snape's.  
  
"Glad to see you're feeling better, Miss Granger," he snarled.  
  
Hermione wasn't really sure of what to say, and she remembered how he thrived off uncomfortable silences.  
  
"Got yourself into a bit of a situation, did you?"  
  
Hermione summoned up what little bit of courage was left in her body when she was around Snape and replied with a simple, "I suppose."  
  
"You didn't happen to," he ran a finger across the nape of her neck, sending chills up her spine, "discuss our little agreement with anyone, now did you?"  
  
"No. I didn't tell him you gave it to me."  
  
Snape gave an approving nod, "Good." He turned on his heels to stalk back down to his dungeons, missing the glare she sent his way. "You know where to find me, my dear." 


	9. Stupid Girl

Hermione sat in her room, furiously scribbling notes for her NEWTs on a scroll, trying to distract herself. She had decided she wanted her old life back, but she couldn't stop her brain from wanting to simply walk down to the dungeons and getting just one hit, just one. Since her overdose four days ago, she felt like she was lost. Her stomach was relentless in its aching, as was her head, and her moods had been flying from one end of the spectrum to the next at mach speeds. Harry and Ron were being too overprotective. If Hermione dared to laugh too hard or stared absently in thought, they would give her a look over, trying to determine if she was alright.  
  
She had gone down to breakfast that morning, exhausted as usual since insomnia had become her new best friend. Her head was pounding, she felt nauseated, and her internal organs seemed to be practicing origami with each other. She had felt these symptoms before and knew she was in withdrawal. If she could make it through the day, she would be okay. Groggily she sat down and decided to poke at the food on her plate for show. But her usual grace deceived her, and a drowsy clumsiness had set in, causing her to drop her fork. As she bent over to pick it up off the floor, a wild hand movement by Parvati knocked a glass of butterbeer all over her robes. Hermione snapped.  
  
The stressed girl pointed the wand at her robes with a muttered "Assiccare" causing the spots to dry up. "Fuck," she mumbled, which was very unlike her. Usually she thought the vulgarities of the English language were reserved for those too dimwitted to think of anything else to say.  
  
"Calm down, 'Mione, no harm done," Ron protested.  
  
She looked up at the redhead and glared. She wasn't sure why, but she was furious. "It's interesting how you barely talk to me until I practically kill myself, yet you stick up for whatever air-headed twit you feel like shagging that day," she hissed quietly. Harry's jaw dropped, and Ron sat still in astonishment. Parvati, who hadn't heard Hermione's accusation, crossed her arms across her chest in preparation for attack. Hermione, realizing somewhat how she was acting, stormed out of the Great Hall towards her sanctuary.  
  
"Excuse me," a daring voice called.  
  
Hermione turned on her heel and saw Paverati looking at her with her best attempt at an intimdating glare that made her skin scrunch up around her eyes.  
  
"Listen," Hermione tried to explain, "I'm sorry. My moods have just been-" She gestured with her hand, trying to find the right words. "I don't know. I know you didn't mean to spill anything."  
  
"Whatever," her classmate snapped. "You're just jealous."  
It took Hermione a moment for this to register. Jealous? She looked over Parvati and her I'm-so-much-better-than-you pose, from her heeled shoes to her black hair in a Lora Croft style braid. Granted, she was considered more attractive than Hermione, but she would never trade her intelligence for an empty head covered in cosmetic charms.  
  
"Okay," Hermione sighed sarcastically, "You're right; you win. I'm going to go ahead and go now, is that okay? Are you done?" She turned around, but before she took two steps, she turned around again.  
  
"Petrificus Totalus!"  
  
The olive-skinned girl fell to the ground with her wand pointed and an incantation on the lips of her open mouth. Hermione walked over and stood over the body of her classmate. "You stupid girl," she said, "look what you made me do."  
  
Noting that no one was around, she felt a streak of vindictiveness rush through her. "Turpis Bacillum," she whispered. The petrified face of Hogwart's prettiest girl morphed, with an elonged forehead covered with boils and cheeks shrinking causing her mouth to look like that of a fish. Her teeth stick out, ironically much resembling Hermione's teeth before Malfoy's stray Densaugeo curse. She turned to continue her walk to Gryffindor Tower but was interrupted once again.  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
This time, with her head throbbing uncontrollably, Hermione turned around to face the addresser.  
  
"Yes?" she asked Harry, who was standing in front of a small group of Gryffindors who had come out to investigate the noise. There were whispers from the group of people.  
  
"Oh gods."  
  
"Her face, look at it. It's all deformed."  
  
"Eww."  
  
"Finite Incantatem," Seamus pointed his wand at Parvati. She stood up and dusted herself off as her classmates stared at her face.  
  
"Parvati," Seamus tried to get her attention.  
  
"What? What's going on?" she asked in squeaky, furious voice.  
  
"You have a smudge of something right there," he said, rubbing his own cheek.  
  
"What is it?" she asked, rubbing her cheek.  
  
"Looks like a little bit of ugly," he laughed, causing her to go over to the glass in the doors of Great Hall and scream at her reflection.  
  
"You Bitch! You ruined my face! Turn it back! Turn it back, now!" she screamed at Hermione, who simply shrugged.  
  
"Okay, I'm going to go now," she stated and walked off, not letting anyone stop her this time.  
  
"What's gotten into her?" Seamus asked.  
  
"I think it's that time of the month, mate," someone piped up from the back  
  
Harry readjusted his glasses. "I think it's something more than that," he whispered to Ron, who nodded seriously. 


	10. Give In

Hermione slammed the door to her room and fell on her bed. She was crying for no apparent reason. Her head throbbed as if there were two little gremlins inside trying to chop through it with an ax, her sinuses were pulsating below her eyes so badly that it hurt to open them, and her body was aching all over. As she hugged a pillow, she had an idea. She dug through her trunk and finally found her medical potions and charms book. It was well-used, as was visible by the showing seams and rounded corners of the cover. She supposed it was a book used for medi-witch and -wizard training courses, and had bought it out of curiosity. She flipped through the index, not anything useful. Duplexplicis wasn't mentioned, nor was withdrawal, not that she expecting to find something so bold, anyway. But she lucked out when she found a few simple potions that looked helpful in aiding severe headaches. "Eye of newt, Fucusis berry shells, and honey." Odd. She had the first two in her private stores, but had never thought of adding honey to her collection. Hermione stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of her robes and headed towards the kitchens, hoping Dobby could help her out.  
  
"That stupid bitch. I can't believe she did this to me," she heard Parvati whimper to the consoling coos of her best friend, Lavender. She avoided their presence in the corridor by taking a shortcut near the dungeons. She was hoping to find a passage that went straight to the kitchens that she had discovered during her house-elf activist days. She tried one of the many doors to no avail; the next only revealed an empty classroom with desks covered in cobwebs.  
  
"Looking for something, Ms. Granger?"  
  
She spun around. "It doesn't appear to be any of your business, Professor," she replied to the Potions master who had appeared out of nowhere.  
  
A grin spread on his face, "I would almost get worried if you ever lost your feistiness, Miss Granger."  
  
She stared at him for a moment, "Why did you do this to me?"  
  
"Do what to you, may I ask?" he responded naively.  
  
"Look at me!" she yelled, controlling her urge to stretch up on her tip toes and tighten her hands around his neck until he felt like she did. He stepped back, surprisingly affected by her raised voice, and glared at her. He swished his robes and stepped into the open doorway of his office. She stopped the closing door with her black shoe and pushed herself inside.  
"Don't walk away from me, you twisted pervert. Look what you've done to me!" She whipped some of the cold sweat from her brow. "I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't concentrate. You did this on purpose, you wanted to ruin me!"  
  
Snape stepped closer and looked down into her angry brown eyes. "As I see it, Miss Granger, you did it to yourself. I didn't force you to do anything, now did I? As a matter of fact, you should be thanking me, you horrid girl, for saving your life after that little stunt you pulled."  
  
"Saving my life?" she spat and laughed at his audacity, "You want me to thank you for saving my life? You should have let me die."  
  
"Don't be so dramatic, you unpleasant brat."  
  
"Just tell me, why did you choose me? Or was it just me? Do you play the same games with Pansy Parkinson or Heather Bones or any other girl you came in contact with?"  
  
Severus Snape wanted to be rid of her presence, but in her current state of mind, she might be a threat to their secret. Instead, he sat down behind his desk, allowing the silent authoritarian act to hopefully calm her down.  
  
"I'm hardly a pervert, Miss Granger."  
  
She leaned against the desk and got in his face, "Then why me? Why me of all people?"  
  
"Since the second you walked through the gates of this school, you've been told you're the brightest witch in your time. That is hardly so." He sighed in disgust. "Between you and Potter, I've been perpetually sick for the past six and a half years. I've seen witches like you, cleverer ones, in fact. You're neither fantastic nor special; you're mediocre at best. I wanted to see how much it would take to break the "Brain of Hogwarts"- not very much, I see."  
  
"I'm not going to give you the sick satisfaction of breaking me, you sadist. I'm still here, am I not?"  
  
He nodded with his infamous smirk. "Very true," he said sarcastically, opening the drawer to his desk and pulling out a small vial filled with a blue powder and placing it on the desk between them, daring her to even look at it.  
  
She paused. Hermione knew what he was doing. If she as much as looked at the vial, he would win. It would prove that she was under his thumb and despite her strongest efforts, would never move away from it.  
  
"Put that away," she hissed.  
  
"Why?" he asked mockingly, picking up the vial and twirling it with his long fingers, "Can't even take a peek?"  
  
She wanted to growl or bark or do something equally primitive, but instead, her eyes fixed on the vial and the substance inside as it shifted with the motions of his hand. Oh god, in spite of her mind, her heart was jumping out of her chest at the sight of the substance and a cure to the burn in her brain. But she couldn't; it was just a game, and he was taunting her like a puppy.  
  
"I see we're still fond of it, are we?" he cooed  
  
She shot daggers with her eyes, "Put it away!"  
  
"What's wrong, little one? If it's that bad, you can always leave." Yes. Of course she could leave, but by doing so she would give away any chance at getting just a little bit, just enough for a fix. Snape could see her defensive shell was cracking away, so for further amusement, he dabbed a small amount on the table in front of her, scooting it into thin lines with his nails.  
  
"Care for a taste?" he asked.  
  
She didn't respond. After a short silence, he stood up. "I tell you what, Miss Granger. I'm going to go fetch a pot of tea and perhaps give the two of you," he said, gesturing towards the powder, "some time to catch up."  
  
Hermione knew that she should have left the second he turned his back and walked away into his quarters, but she couldn't bring herself to retreat. Instead, her body ignored her mind and her efforts to resist and inhaled the powder in one majestic sweep as it passed from her sinus cavities into her blood stream.  
  
"Gods, yes," she mumbled as she floated back down to earth and into a chair with contracted pupils and a grin on her face. It wasn't too much, just enough to bring her back where she needed to be.  
  
"I see you're feeling much better, now," a dark voice murmured as a finger traced along the nape of her neck. She opened her eyes and met the black that was Severus Snape. She nodded slowly. The initial surge still flooded her entire body, the last of it dwindling at her fingertips leaving a pleasant tingling sensation only to be replaced by that of fingers gently following the outline of her shoulders. A slight chill indicated the loss of an article of clothing. She leaned her head back against the chair and opened her eyes to see a head of black hair concentrating on her left breast, carefully teasing the nipple with his tongue. "Do you like that?" he asked, looking up into her glazed eyes.  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Good," he replied, continuing with the opposite breast. Hermione's body was extremely sensitive to his touch and she felt as if she could trace the nerves sending the tingling sensation from her nipple down her stomach to between her legs, causing her to squeeze them together in response. A hand slid under her robes against the thigh high stockings and landed on its target. He rubbed roughly, in small circles, giving special attention to that small spot that caused Hermione to push against his hand in need. She mumbled softly, biting her lip in a drug induced state as he pushed away the soft cotton of her panties, revealing his prize. Intoxicated by the smell, he inhaled deeply, and flicked his tongue over the bud of her clit causing her to jump slightly and moan deeply as she readjusted herself in the chair with her elbows against the wooden arms and her wool skirt pushed up around her waist, contrasting with the porcelain paleness of her thighs.  
  
Snape continued licking with an occasional nibble that only excited her more. Her hips were no long under her control. They only responded to the movement of his lips and tongue with an eager thrust, begging for more. "Ohgodsyesrightthereohgod," she mumbled to herself as her body climbed the hill of an unbelievable orgasm but the last flick of the tongue that was required to grant her admission to the other side never happened.  
  
"Not yet," he said seductively. She growled lightly in protest, her mind still under the influence of the Duplexplicis, making everything like an old movie or when you blink your eyes quickly. Everything occurred frame by frame, but it didn't register completely. Snape helped her up, her skirt to falling slightly as he took her place in the chair, naked from the waist down. He turned her around and allowed her to take her place on his lap; he didn't like to be faced. She leaned her head back and arched her back as she felt the initial contact of sensitive flesh on flesh. With his hands on her hips, he was in control of her movements just like he was in control of her. 


	11. I Know

Over the next few days, Hermione stayed in a perpetual state of drug induced happiness. The weekend had passed quickly. Harry and Ron weren't sure what was going on, but they weren't completely blind to Hermione's erratic behavior. They had invited her along on a Hogsmeade trip but Hermione's paranoia was settling in and making a home in her head and wasn't about to fall for such an obvious ploy to keep trap Hermione in a corner and take away everything near and dear to her – which only included Duplexplicis at the moment – under the pretext of "friends." Instead, Hermione stayed in her room most of the day. Her usually anal organizational habits were thrown out the window and she would lie amongst the empty cups and scrolls filled with scribbles on the floor with her arms spread while Duplexplicis spread throughout her body. Yes, she had attempted to sleep, but Duplexplicis was a friend with a cobweb of strings attached. Sleep was no longer an option, nor was an appetite, but as long as she had her magical blue powder, she didn't have to think and any negative thoughts eluded her. She opened an eye half heartedly, still feeling the initial surge of her morning dose. The noise from the hallways made it clear that the other students were doing their daily rounds of socializing before the first morning course. Hermione considered laying on the floor to avoid any kind of experience like the last time she decided to goto class while under the influence, but her insatiable crave for learning was trying its hardest to scream its protest through the heavy mist of the drug. She justified it in her mind; it had been a good hour since her last line and the effects weren't as overwhelming. She pushed the red ball of fur that was her familiar off her stomach and smiled at the slight surge of perfection that ran through her body when she stood up. Hermione sat in the desk of her Defense Against the Dark Arts, trying to appear normal as the classroom filled up with the other Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Her seat was in the front, as expected, at the end of a long table next to Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. Professor Lupin made his entrance through a door in the side of the classroom which connected to his office. He looked lost in thought and brushed his fingers through his hair as he set a short stack of books on his desk. He looked up quickly, as if someone had called his name and looked around, finally laying eyes on Hermione. His facial expression dropped slightly though it was enough to be evident to her. Hermione readjusted herself in her seat, straightening her back. He knew, and she knew it. How did he know? She wasn't sure as of yet, but what did it matter. He knew and that was all that matters. He looked at her, his eyes trying to read hers and she looked down at her books quickly trying to avoid his eye contact. Before his staring attracted the attention of other classmates, he recomposed himself. "Morning" he greeted the classroom in his husky voice. "Today we're just going to uh," he paused and brushed his fingers through his sandy brown, grey speckled hair, "Everyone read the chapters I assigned last week on the curing properties of various plants when faced with the um," he took a sideways glance at Hermione, "Unforgiveables if treated immediately. Just read over that and Hermione, may I speak to you in my office for a second?" There were some looks and quiet whispers from the other students. Hermione could only concentrate on her vastly accelerated heart beat as she stood up and followed the Professor into his office. He sat down behind his desk, a carbon copy of the one in Snape's office so she figured they must come standard. She sat down in the dark red leather chair, as the Professor closed the door and began to pace slowly as if considering what to do. The office was bare with the exception of two large floor-to-ceiling book cases that were so full that extra books were piled on the floor in front of them. Her head was still clogged but it felt as if someone had attached a hook to the portion of her brain that could distinguish the reality from the drug and pulled it forward at mach speed letting it hit her with full force. Professor Lupin turned around and looked at her. "You came to my class on that horrid stuff and you thought I was stupid enough not to realize it, is that it?" Hermione shook her head no as her eyes watered. He walked over to where she sat and looked down on her. "How much did you take?" he demanded. She stared at him, unwilling to answer. "Damnit, Hermione. I can smell it on you!" he said louder than he obviously expected and lowered his voice, "You were clever enough to figure out my curse in the first place, then you should also know that it comes with a few benefits as well. I have hightened senses. I avoid the girls bathrooms for the pure fact that the smell of perfume is overwhelming enough to make me pass out, I can smell a person before I see them, I can even smell fear" he accentuated, "now what makes you think I can't smell the Duplexplicis on you? That horrid substance is leaking out of your pours as we speak." Hermione didn't say anything as a tear streaked down her cheek. "I told you before that I didn't think it was in your best interest to bring Dumbledore into this. I thought you would smarten up after you almost died from that shit, but it didn't stop you. What's going on?" "I didn't know what else to do" she sighed, "I couldn't sleep or eat or conectrate. My head hurt worse than you could ever imagine, my entire body would ache so badly I couldn't move out of my bed and I knew that it was the only thing that would cure it. I wanted to stop, I did. I just couldn't deal with the pain." Lupin paused in his pacing, "like withdrawals?" he asked with a curious look on his face. "I suppose" she sniffled. He sat down at his desk and looked at her in the eye, "And the Duplexplicis was causing it?" "I don't know anything else that would." His shoulders dropped slightly and he looked off to the side as he searched his mind. "But Duplexplicis isn't addictive, why..." he paused and then it looked as if a light bulb had gone off in his head. "He's giving it to you, isn't he? It's Snape.That's why you were down in the dungeons..." Hermione inhaled quickly and looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, stumbling over her words "n-no he's n-not. I, I mean-" Lupin slammed his fist against the desk. "God, how could I have been so dim?" he mumbled to himself and stood up quickly. "Look, just go lay down, I need to take care of something." He walked out of the door to the office and flicked his hand, "Class dismissed" he said as he left the classroom. Hermione stood in the doorway of the office as everyone else seemed a little shocked. They gave her sideway glances and mumbled amongst themselves as they gathered their books and cleared the classroom. It wasn't very often that a Professor excused a class early at Hogwart's. Meanwhile, Snape sat in his office with a cup of tea looking over a weekly potion's magazine, his long fingers tapping ever so lightly on the wood of his desk. He took a sip as he heard a harsh knock on the door. Severus Snape sighed as he pointed his wand at the door, allowing Lupin to come in.  
"Ah, Lupin. Have a seat. I have your wolfbane's potion heating as we speak."  
"I'm not here for that. I need to speak to you about Hermione Granger." He said sharply.  
"I see." He said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers seemingly unaffected. "What about her?"  
"She came in my class on Duplexplicis this morning."  
"Nasty stuff, that is."  
"Then why are you giving it to her?"  
Snape heightened his eyebrows, "That's quite an accusation, friend. I must admit I'm sorry for tarnishing your delusions of the girl, but I hardly think you should trust a word from her mouth, especially claims such as that. You know what Duplexplicis can do to one's mind."  
"She didn't tell me, I figured it out myself, Severus."  
A smirk grew on the side of his mouth, "Oh really? And what would make you think that I have anything to do with it?"  
"I smelled the Duplexplicis on her and it was mixed with something else. I couldn't figure it out until I realized she has all the symptoms of being under Adixio. You know damn well youre one of the only people who could make it."  
"Don't give me such credit, Lupin. It's not that difficult, any idiot with the ingredients and a cauldron could perfect it."  
Lupin stood up from his seat, "Damnit Snape, I'm not in the mood to be playing these games with you. You've been giving it to her. Why? Why have you been giving it to her? What is in it for you?"  
Snape remained calm and collected as he took a sip of his tea, "Lupin, I suggest you reevaluate all the trust you place in your students and the conclusions you come up with. Now, I'll have the wolfsbane ready by Wednesday. I'll see you then."  
Lupin's face was red with anger, "I've seen you ruin one life, I'm not going to let you do it again."  
"Good day, Professor" Snape responded calmly and resumed reading his magazine.  
Professor Lupin knew his attempts were fruitless and stalked out of the room. After he was out of sight, Snape magiced his door closed and cursed to himself, trying to plan his defense. 


	12. One More

Hermione was in the comfort of her sanctuary once again. The day had been one of the most stressful yet. Lupin knew what was going on, and she wasn't just afraid of academic consequences but of Snape finding out. She feared the man. His dark eyes were always intimidating, and he never seemed to blink or falter, whether he was in front of the class or on top of her on his desk. In her eyes, he held some sort of superpower and the last thing she wanted was him to be upset.  
  
She knew better and that it was the last thing she should do, but the stress was driving her insane. Her anxiety level was at its highest peak and she could only think of one escape. She prepared two short lines of the shimmering blue powder and justified her actions in her mind by telling herself that if she was already caught, then what was the harm? She knew not to take too much; she had to attend an Arithmancy class in a few moments, and she hardly wanted to repeat making an ass out of herself. With the hollow quill, she inhaled it swiftly. He eyes contracted, heart beating faster. Perfection, starting at her belly, spread to her most outward appendages and left behind a dull thud of content as it did so. Oh, she loved this.  
  
Feeling as if she was floating, she gathered her backpack. For some reason, the weight of it was not unpleasant. In fact, the way it was situated on her shoulder caused a good feeling, like stretching. Down the corridor she hovered off the ground, not feeling her feet contact the hard stone floor. The light shining through the stained glass windows at the end of the hall was delightful and intriguing. She stopped for a moment to gaze in awe at the way light was directed in a fashion that it created such a feast for the eyes. She loved the blues of the wizard's robe, and the orange of his hair, but most fascinating was the red color of the staff; it was breathtaking. She reached out to touch it, holding her breath. Realizing what she was doing, she forced her attention away from the window, bidding the wizard's magnificent colours farewell in her head and apologizing for such a hasty departure, but she hardly wanted to be caught staring at the same window she passed numerous times a day. She looked around, making sure no one had noticed, and continued on her path.  
  
As she reached the stairs, she took a step back realizing that they had decided to switch once again. At the mere thought of stairs switching as they did, she giggled loudly. How absurd! Hermione wondered how she ever got used to it. She attracted the stares of two first year boys standing a few meters away and tried to muffle her giggles with her hand. They were curious looking boys, one of them blonde, the other with his hair cut so close to his head that he practically looked bald. She really wanted a closer peek and perhaps a chance to rub her hand over the top of his bald little head, but her common sense wasn't sedated enough to let her do so.  
  
Instead, she climbed onto a set of stairs a few feet away and walked in a daze of giggles and colour. She reached a door and walked in. It took her a few moments for the silence of the class to register in her head. She looked up and saw a classroom of third years turn their head towards her and met eyes with her Head of House.  
  
"Sorry, Professor," she mumbled as she walked out. God, how could she be so stupid as to walk into the wrong classroom? Oh, Gods, what if Professor McGonagall knew? She probably did, how much more obvious could she be with a sweat-dampened forehead and eyes opened wide as if she had gone mad. Hermione was suddenly aware of her heartbeat, and it felt abnormal; maybe she was dying. Oh gods, she was dying. No, she wasn't dying; she was just afraid. Of what? Of McGonagall. Did you see the look on her face? She knew. She definitely knew.  
  
Straining her brain to concentrate, Hermione made it to her appropriate classroom and took her seat, careful not to made eye contact with Professor Vector. Her paranoia had come to the conclusion that eye contact was a window of vulnerability for her. To let someone look straight into her eyes would be a horrible mistake because by doing so, they would know all of her dirty little secrets that had made her so ashamed she had considered killing herself to preserve the tiny bit of honor she had left. Absentmindedly, she scribbled her quill on a blank scroll, enjoying the rotation of her fingers as she doodled small circles and random words that looked amusing, such as "epitome." What an odd word. Hermione remembered her most embarrassing moment as a child when she was in the last year of primary school. She was a constant reader, and in an attempt to impress some of her parents' acquaintances at one of their parties, she wanted to show off her extraordinary vocabulary by using the word in a sentence claiming that Mozart was the "epitÅme" of talent in classical music. Having only read the word and not connecting it with the word she had heard spoken, she was humiliated when they began to laugh at her.  
  
"'EpitÅme?' You mean 'epitome?'"  
  
"How darling!"  
  
"Children are so precious when they try to talk like the grown-ups!" they giggled.  
  
Hermione was so embarrassed, she ran to her room and cried at their mockery. That one experience was probably the biggest driving force in her obsession for perfection. It inspired the same feeling of gut-wrenching physical attachment to an emotion that occurred when Professor Lupin had her in his office only a little while before.  
  
The sound of books and feet shuffling around her made Hermione realize that she had wasted the entire class period and hadn't paid attention to one word that the Professor had spoken. Embarrassed, she gathered her books and left the room. She opted for her sanctuary instead of lunch. She didn't think she could eat if she tried.  
  
Once she reached her room, she sat down on her bed and stared at her hands in her lap, contemplating how she was going to handle the current situation. Lupin knew how badly she depended on Duplexplicis, and he knew that Snape was responsible for the distribution. The thought dawned on her that he probably smelled the strong scent of sex on her the night in the dungeon, and her face went red. In fact, she knew he did. Even she had smelled it on herself. She couldn't begin to imagine the implications this could have, but she did know that it wasn't going to go away. If Snape got caught, she knew he wouldn't settle until she had fully suffered the consequences of revealing their secret. Hermione suddenly felt scared and on the verge of tears. She wished it would all go away or that she could go back and re-do everything to avoid her current situation. How could she face Lupin again? Hermione felt like the only logical option was to climb under a rock and proceed to die. But before she could get a chance to examine her rock options, there was a knock at the door. Hesitantly, she got up and opened the portrait to see a pair of angry black eyes meeting hers.  
  
Snape pushed himself in through the portrait and into the room.  
  
"You unappreciative child, how dare you bring Lupin in to this," he spat. "If you think for a moment that I will let you get away with this, you are incredibly mistaken."  
  
Hermione took a couple steps backwards as Snape kept approaching. "I- I didn't. I mean I d-didn't say anything. He f-figured it out on h-his own, I swear!" she cried.  
  
He raised the sleeve of his black robe and shoved his arm in her face. She was eye to eye with a snake and skull burned into his flesh. She had seen it before. During their previous encounters, she had caught herself looking down at his exposed forearm with curiosity but he would cover it quickly if he noticed he stares.  
  
"You see that?" he demanded. "I doubt your mediocre mind could possibly comprehend the things it has made me gone through, but I refuse to allow you to think for a minute that it hasn't had any effect. If I can handle the things I have already, I can handle you with no problem and no guilt, you little wench."  
  
By this point, Hermione was backed into a wall, literally shaking in her boots.  
  
"I want this situation with Lupin taken care of immediately," he said, grabbing a hold of her pony tail and yanking it back. "Otherwise, I'll be forced to take further action, and we don't want that, now do we?"  
  
He let go of her hair, and she shook her head as tears streaked down her cheeks. Snape sighed heavily in what resembled a laugh as a smile played on his. "I'm glad we've come to an understanding, child. Now go look out of the portrait and see if anyone is around. I don't need to be seen here."  
  
Obediently, she went to the portrait and poked her head outside. Noting that everyone was still in the Great Hall, she nodded that it was clear. He pushed her aside and climbed out the portrait, disappearing down the corridor. 


	13. Redheads

"Wow," Harry sighed, his bare chest rising and falling.  
  
Ginny giggled and wrapped the blanket around her body, crawling up next to him and collapsing in the nook of his shoulder. He kissed her on the forehead and glanced at the watch on his right wrist.  
  
"Shit," he mumbled, sitting up.  
  
"What?" Ginny asked from the floor with only the red blanket separating her naked body from the cold stones.  
  
"We missed dinner."  
  
"Are you serious?"  
  
Harry nodded and positioned himself over the red-headed vixen, kissing her neck and causing her to giggle helplessly. "Well, it's your fault."  
  
Ginny's mouth dropped open, "Hardly!"  
  
The young couple kissed one last time before making an effort to move. Harry stood up and went through the pile of robes lying on the floor, trying to distinguish which ones belonged to whom. Ginny snatched her white panties from the floor, trying to put them on under the covers. Having finished, she tried to do the same with her modest bra as Harry looked on curiously.  
  
"Don't look!" she protested. Although she acted grown up in many ways, she was still quite embarrassed of her body.  
  
Obediently, Harry turned around as he fastened the buttons to his robe but attempted to sneak a peek.  
  
"Stop it!" she squealed.  
  
Harry pounced on her half-dressed body and kissed her cheek. "I can't help it," he said, tightening his grip around her body.  
  
Ginny giggled and playfully tried to get away.  
  
Eventually the young couple ended their secretive rendezvous by Ginny transforming the two blankets, one thick and red, the other white, back into throw pillows. She banished them back to their place on the couch. As she slipped her wand in her pocket, she looked at Harry with a smile. She was still proud of the fact that she had been proclaimed as the best Transfiguration student in her year.  
  
"I'm getting hungry," she whispered in his ear as they walked down the empty corridor, away from their secret meeting room.  
  
"Me, too," Harry agreed, wiping his glasses on the sleeve of his robe before giving Ginny a quick kiss.  
  
The corridor was empty, mostly due to the fact that the room they had rendezvoused in a smaller-than-average classroom that didn't seem to be used. They still guarded the door with protective charms. It was located only a few meters away from the stairs to the eastern astronomy tower which was only used at midnight for classes, so the two felt safe as they made their way to their house's tower. The young couple continued to sneak kisses when they were sure no one could see them.  
  
As a small group of first year Hufflepuffs passed, Harry swooped the red head up in his arms and refused to let her go.  
  
"Oh, Harry," she protested, "let me down."  
  
"Never," he responded diligently, spinning her around. Her arms tightened in a strong grip hold around his neck.  
  
"I'll tell Ron!" she teased.  
  
He immediately let her down. "Wouldn't want that, would we?" he retorted.  
  
They both laughed at their mutual dirty secret, followed by a slightly uncomfortable silence.  
  
Ginny parted the silence by stopping and making eye contact. "Harry," she began, "we are going to tell Ron and Mum eventually, aren't we? I mean, we can't keep doing this forever."  
  
"Of course," he began while looking off in the distance. Suddenly, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her behind the corner, hiding them from the portrait of the Fat Lady and the Philosopher down the hall.  
  
"Wh-," she started to ask before he covered her mouth with the palm of his hand and gestured towards Hermione's door. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Look."  
  
Carefully, Ginny peered around the corner and saw a swish of black robes and the portrait of the philosopher closing behind him. With her blue eyes widened, she looked back at Harry. "Is that Snape?" she asked. Harry confirmed her suspicions by nodding.  
  
"What was he doing in Hermione's room?" she asked.  
  
"I don't know," he responded, somewhat lost in thought.  
  
"I have to go meet my study group in the library. I'll talk to you later?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
She began to walk off before turning on her heel and returning to Harry. Biting her lip, she gave him a kiss and nervously whispered, "I love you."  
  
"Love you, too," he responded as she gave him a little wave and walked off towards the library carrying a broad smile.  
  
Harry entered the common room and slouched down on an over-stuffed, crimson chair, contemplating his options. He felt as if he needed to do something. The problem was, what could he do? Obviously, the first question that plagued Harry was why Snape was in Hermione's rooms. Harry knew Hermione Granger, whether she liked it or not. Even if Hermione had seemingly parted ways with Ron and Harry, she couldn't turn her back on six years of friendship no matter how hard she tried. Various explanations ran through his scarred head, but none of them seemed right. Harry knew there was some connection between Snape's presence today and a week ago when Hermione had her near fatal encounter with Duplexplicis. As a matter of fact, Harry thought to himself, it's quite a coincidence that he happened to be in Gryffindor Tower when Hermione overdosed.  
  
Harry racked his brain for the conversation that occurred in Hermione's quarters. He wasn't positive what was said, but he remembered looking at Hermione's comatose body and hearing Lupin tell Snape to make an antidote and implying that Snape was quite familiar with the stuff. Harry had not taken any notice at the time, but now he wondered. And what about Crookshanks? No one had bothered explaining what had happened to the poor cat. Now it seemed as if pieces of a seemingly impossible puzzle were coming together. He shook his head, feeling quite stupid for not realizing such things earlier.  
  
"I can't believe it was Snape," he whispered to himself. 


	14. Please

Hermione lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying to make shapes and faces out of the different colours and patterns in the large stones. Anything was better than thinking about the realities that faced her. Too bad she couldn't avoid them forever.  
  
She had been deciding how she was going to take care of the current situation, and she had come up with two choices. The first basically included the taste of a gun barrel in her mouth and the second would require her to suck it all up and face her most recent obstacle by somehow getting Lupin out of the situation. Hermione's preference was the first, but she was horribly afraid of pain and she didnt like guns, so the second became her choice purely by default.  
  
Preparing herself, she patted out the wrinkles in her robes and walked down to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Nervously, she knocked on the door next to the classroom door, the one leading to Lupin's office. She hesitated slightly, catching her breath as she waited for a "come in," but there was no response and her heart suddenly felt lighter. Wanting to tell herself that he was still at dinner and this could easily be done another time, she stood still, knowing that it was best to get things over with as soon as possible- like ripping off a bandage. As her less courageous side had become dominant, she was about to turn on her heel and leave when she heard a voice.  
  
"Hermione, what an unexpected guest," he said somewhat sarcastically, making Hermione's internal organs twist in worry. "Please, come in and have a seat."  
  
She sat in the chair in front of his desk as he sat down in his and summoned a cup of tea. "Care for some?"  
  
Hermione nervously declined the offer, "No, not right now... um, Professor Lupin, I wanted to come down here and make some things clear."  
  
"Oh, really?" the shaggy-haired Professor asked.  
  
"Firstly," Hermione began, "Snape hasn't had anything to do with any of this. I mean the whole Duplexplicis situation; he hasn't been involved at all, in fact, I've been getting it from an outside source." She looked down at her clasped hands in her lap. She was horrible at lying, and she knew it. There was no way Lupin would buy it, but she dared to look up at him to find the warewolf running his fingers through his hair as if carefully considering his next move in a chess game. He looked up at her, and she immediately looked down, avoiding eye contact. Lupin sighed heavily and rested his arms on the desk.  
  
"Hermione, I'm just so," he looked at her in the eyes, "worried about you. You're such an intelligent girl, by far the brightest I have ever met."  
  
She looked down at her hands, her thumb nervously caressing the other. This was nothing she hadn't heard before, but as of late, Snape's opinions concerning her had become her own. She was simply mediocre, not as clever as she thought she was, and on top of it all, she was weak.  
  
"I know why you're here," he began. "I talked to Snape earlier. I told him I knew what was going on, and you being here confirms all of my suspicions. Let me guess, he got worried and sent you down here to sort things out?" He shook his head, "Bloody hell, Hermione, you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."  
  
"I'm perfectly capable of handling myself," she retorted.  
  
"Are you?" He laughed half heartedly. "Then why did we find you half dead in your room?"  
  
Hermione was speechless.  
  
"Have you heard of the Reely family?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," Hermione responded automatically, somewhat confused at what possible relevance there may be. "Arnes Reely was one of the most talented potion masters the wizarding world has ever seen. He died a few years ago, I believe."  
  
"Right. Now have you heard of Carya Reely?"  
  
Hermione shook her head no.  
  
"Didn't think you would have," he began. "She was a student here, at about the same time I was. She was probably the most intelligent person I had ever met, not to mention the most intelligent female. I never thought I'd see another of her rank," he stopped and lowered his tone, "until I met you." As if he just realized what he had said, he quickly began speaking again. "She had learned a lot from her father, and needless to say, she was quite good at Potions. I knew her fairly well. She had to help me in Potions constantly; I was a real Neville when it came to Potions. Severus Snape, too, was extraordinary in Potions- no surprise there.  
  
"He had some sort of fixation with her, though. Not just some crush, it edged more along the lines of sickening jealousy. They had been competing over who was better since they both walked in the front doors of Hogwarts, but she would always beat him. You could imagine how angry that made him. He would follow her around and things of that sort. For the most part, she would ignore him, but she agreed to meet him one night. According to what she told me a few weeks later, she met him on top of one of the towers, and he offered her something, a drug."  
  
"Duplexplicis?" Hermione asked.  
  
Lupin nodded. "She took it out of curiosity, not knowing that he had added Adixio to it to make her need it. Eventually, if she didn't have some every day, she would go through these horrible withdrawals. Sound familiar?"  
  
Hermione nodded mutely.  
  
He huffed slightly, as if the entire situation was almost too much for him to handle. "She went downhill so quickly it was sickening. She went from being a student with top marks to barely making it to class. Her potions studies failed, and she completely changed. She had no drive, she just sat in her quarters and did that stuff, that horrible stuff that she got from Snape. Of course, this pleased him. There was no more competition, and the scholarship Carya had gotten from Fott's College for The Gifted was taken away and given to Snape." He took a deep breath. "She eventually killed herself in the Ravenclaw common room over Christmas holidays."  
  
Hermione sighed. "That's horrible."  
  
Lupin looked away from her, towards the wall. "It's just, gods, I thought he changed, you know? Sirius never trusted him, and I suppose I shouldn't have either. He was just such a help to us on the front lines of the war with Voldemort, and after he came clean- well, I was just being dim and assumed he wasn't the same man who killed Carya, even if it was, indirectly."  
  
Lupin got up from his seat and paced slowly for a few moments as he rubbed his fingers through his hair. Hermione's eyes followed him back and forth from one end of the office to the next until he took a place on one knee next to Hermione. She looked down, and for the first time, took a real look into his eyes. They were dark brown, and one had a small, barely visible green fleck on the top. They pleaded with her, asking her to take him seriously, to know that he cared a lot more than he probably should.  
  
"Hermione," he began with his coarse voice lowered, "just promise me that you'll stay away from Duplexplicis, and even more importantly, Snape."  
  
The young girl looked at him, unable to say yes as if it would be a terrible lie to tell. Her mind was already thinking about Duplexplicis and what the next wonderful hit would bring. Seeing her hesitation, he took her hands and held them in his. "Just promise me, Hermione. If he does anything, or if you need help, I'll be there. I'll take care of you."  
  
Hermione nodded her head yes and stood up, afraid of the tingling sensation that ran through her body when his skin touched hers. There was a slight akward pause as he got up from his knee, his eyes still pleading with hers.  
  
"It's getting late, Professor," she said.  
  
"Please, Hermione, call me Remus."  
  
"Okay," she agreed. "I need to go, uh, study as much as I can as NEWTs are coming up soon."  
  
"Goodnight, Hermione."  
  
"Goodnight," she hesitated, "Remus." 


	15. Still Here

Hermione closed the door to Lupin's office behind her and stood against it, overwhelmed at how her problems had reached an entirely new level. She wasn't sure what to do next, but it seemed as if things had been decided for her. Out of the darkness of the corridor, a tall, lean figure appeared in billowing robes. He made a tight hold on her upper arm and dragged her down the dark corridor.  
  
"Did you get everything taken care of?" he asked with his voice low and sleek, cautious of the werewolf only a few doors down.  
  
In astonishment, Hermione gathered a new found strength and looked up into his eyes, "You followed me down here and waited for me!"  
  
Severus clasped his palm over her mouth. "Quiet," he snapped with a penetrating stare.  
  
Hermione's accusatory glare didn't waver as he lifted his hand. "Why did you follow me?"  
  
"I wanted to make sure our problem was solved.," he cooed, letting his finger trace her cheek. In a quick gesture, she slapped his hand away, a movement she would of never dared during the past six months. She wanted out.  
  
"Like Carya?" she spat, causing his usual face to falter for a moment before going into a cruel, impenetrable mask. Hermione was getting even more daring. "What? Did I get a little too close to home?"  
  
Before she could think, she saw a wand pointed at her chest with a single string of green striking her. Her mouth was opened in preparation for a scream as she felt the initial surge of darkness wrap her in a tight cocoon and drag her down into a pit.  
  
With her head foggy, she opened her eyes to see a ceiling that wasn't hers. She recognized it immediately though, from many nights of being rocked back and forth and finding her only comfort in the stone ceiling of Snape's quarters. Remembering the spell hitting her chest, she jumped up in the bed and surrounded herself with the dark green velvet blanket. She looked around anxiously for any sign of Snape as her heart beat rapidly inside her chest.  
  
"Good morning," a cold voice greeted from the doorway of his bedroom. He sat down in a chair beside the bed and gestured towards a table next to the bookshelves. "I took the courtesy of having the house elves send up some breakfast for you."  
  
Hermione was confused to say the least; this was a side of Snape she had never seen before, despite their many intimate encounters. He sat with his hands clasped, his leg resting on his other knee casually, and conjured a plate of food in front of Hermione. She looked down at the silver plate filled with an abundant amount of bacon, fluffy eggs and a small goblet of orange juice. Despite her hunger, she looked at the food, and back at Snape, unsure what was going on.  
  
"I didn't poison it," he said coolly as he picked up a book from the side table.  
  
She hesitatingly began to eat, satisfying a hunger that had been plaguing her for quite some time. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten a good meal, and this was very refreshing. But she was confused to say the least. The previous night's events had been too much for her to handle. One moment, she was talking to Remus, the next she was hit with a curse by Snape, and now, she was in his quarters. She wasn't in his room returning sexual favors for Duplexplicis while he looked at her as if he were her master. Instead, he was showing her a side of him she had never seen before. He wasn't being snide or cruel; in fact, he was being, dare she say it, kind, and that seemed to bother her most of all. Snape was the last person she could trust.  
  
After she finished her meal, a headache started at her temples and promised to get worse. Yes, withdrawals were just around the corner. She stood up from the bed, shedding the blankets and carefully set the empty plate and goblet on the side table.  
  
"I really must go. I mean, thank you, it's just that I need to go," She said in a rush, making steps towards the doorway as she clutched her head and wiped off the beads of cold sweat that had appeared there.  
  
"No," he said sharply, "stay. I have something for you."  
  
Confused, she walked hesitantly back over to the bed and sat down as Snape disappeared into another room. With her head throbbing, her body trembling, and her mind begging for Duplexplicis just to make it go away, she laid down and curled up into a ball. It seemed to be an eternity of her trying to concentrate on something else other than the throbbing when Snape reappeared carefully stirring something green and murky with a wooden apothecary spoon.  
  
"Here, swallow this. It will help."  
  
She turned over, her eyes red and puffy with sweat dripping off her forehead. Snape scooped a large bit of it onto the under side of his index finger and placed it on her lips. She licked it off and swallowed the concoction that tasted like a mixture of dragon dung and seaweed with a dab of an overwhelming spice.  
  
Snape pulled out a white handkerchief from the bedside drawer and dabbed it on Hermione's forehead, wiping off the sweat that had accumulated. After a few moments, though, Hermione felt relief. It wasn't like Duplexplicis at all, but it spread throughout her body in the same manner, leaving a minty residue that cooled her small frame. She looked up at the Professor with the blankets pulled up to her chin.  
  
"Thank you, Professor." She said sincerely, feeling something poke into her side. She took out her wand and placed it on the bedside table.  
  
He was obviously not a man who accepted gratitude well, "Don't thank me; I caused it."  
  
"What was that?" she asked, indicating the potion.  
  
"It's an antidote, of sorts, to the effects of Adixio. Takes away the addictive effects and cures the withdrawal symptoms simultaneously. Quite useful."  
  
"Why would you give that to me?" she asked.  
  
"My most sincere apologies if you would rather suffer through the headaches and such."  
  
"No, no. I mean, you added it to the Duplexplicis when you gave it to me, to make me addicted, didn't you? Then why are you reversing the effects?"  
  
Snape sighed, "Let's just say I'm seeing things clearly now."  
  
He presumed his seat in the chair next to the bed, looking over at Hermione casually as they entered and exited a slightly awkward pause.  
  
"Remus told you about Carya," he said in a lower voice.  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
"And, I assume," he sighed, "that he told you some heart wrenching story about how perfect she was until I poisoned her with Duplexplicis and how she eventually killed herself out of pure misery."  
  
"No, not quite, I mean-" She paused. "Sort of," she added guiltily.  
  
He took a sip of tea he had conjured up. "Would you care for some?"  
  
She nodded meekly and accepted the small cup of tea, sipping on it slowly as he told his side of the story.  
  
"Remus is a good man, but he seems to have selective memory when it comes to Carya. She was never the angel everyone thought her to be. In fact, she was anything but. She was raised in an extremely wealthy and pureblooded family. Her father was a god in his own right and her mother made Madame Theresa seem like a hoodlum. Then there was Carya. She was beautiful and extremely talented to boot, the perfect mixture for the perfect girl. Carya helped out poor Remus in his Potions studies, was made prefect and, of course, Head Girl. Even though she ignored me in public, we would get together every night. No one really knew her, not like I did. She was horrid and wicked, but she fascinated me nonetheless. She would torture house elves for entertainment and even poisoned one of her roomate's cat when she scored higher than her on a History of Magic test. She was the one that took me to my first meeting with the Death Eaters. Although she wasn't eighteen yet, she was practically a member as it was. She would help them with the more complicated potions, using the knowledge she had gotten from her father. The potions she would make were used in various torture rituals of random muggles or she would make Veritaserum to be used on wizards to confess their darkest secrets before killing them. She enjoyed the power of it all. By seventh year, I was afraid of her. I wanted to stay away from me, to leave me alone, but I was afraid of what she would do if I dared to stand up to her. She had introduced me to Duplexplicis in an attempt to make me stay and added Adixio to it so I would come crawling back to her. I tried to stay away; I tried to ride out the withdrawals, but it wasn't possible." He looked at Hermione, "I was just so intrigued by her and her intelligence, I couldn't resist." He ended with a deep sigh.  
  
"I suppose Remus left out most of that, didn't he?"  
  
Hermione nodded, feeling pity for him in her stomach. "So you didn't make her kill herself?"  
  
Severus huffed, "Hardly. She was twisted from birth, it was only a matter of time."  
  
There was a silence that Hermione was dying to break. "I need to know something, Severus." She faltered slightly when she referred to him by his first name. "Why did you give me the Duplexplicis with the Adixio?"  
  
He smiled weakly and with his long finger, brushed her hair behind her ears. "You know, you look a lot like Carya. The same facial features," he traced his finger along her cheek, making her nervous. "The same beautiful eyes, even the same flesh," he added as he moved his hand down her neck and began to caress the profile of her body.  
  
Nervously, Hermione moved from under his hand and stood up. "I'm sorry, I really must go. I can't-" she paused. "I have to go." She headed for the door and twisted the knob but it wouldn't budge. She looked back at Snape who was holding his wand towards the door. He stood up and walked towards her, backing her into the door and trapped her with an arm on each side.  
  
"No, you can't leave. Not yet."  
  
"Professor, I really need to go."  
  
"No, I'm not losing you like Carya."  
  
"Please let me leave," Hermione begged.  
  
"I think you will find yourself much more comfortable on the bed," he said smoothly and pointed his wand at her. With a quick "Petrificus Totalus," she was bound with her hands at her side. She tried to move, but her body wouldn't cooperate. Snape levitated her towards the bed and whispered another spell under his breath before unfreezing her. Immediately, she jumped up to get off the bed, but was surprised to find that she ran into a wall, an invisible one. Hermione tried frantically to get out of the four poster bed before realizing that he had made an invisible shield to keep her in. She collapsed onto the down mattress, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Let me out! Someone help me!" she screamed.  
  
Snape climbed through the invisible shield with no problem and settled himself beside her, putting his forefinger against her lips. "Shhh," he said, "No one can hear you." He pinned her onto the bed and kissed her neck, slowly trying to remove her vest and began to unbutton her white shirt. Hermione stared at the ceiling, too tired to fight, and tried to find comfort in the ceiling's stones once again. 


	16. For Keeps

She starred at the ceiling, her eyes watering. The young girl got up and tried to find an escape from the invisible, impenetrable wall surrounding her Professor's bed. Hermione was exhausted, both mentally and physically. She had been in the prison of a bed for more than half a day and her pleas were no help. In fact, Snape had taken to replenishing his stores and was no where to be seen for the past hour.  
  
Hermione whipped the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her robe, that was laying at the foot of the bed and collapsed, wondering what was going to happen next. She didn't know what he had in stored for her but she was petrified none the less. Although she had rejected her Catholic upbringing in exchange for science some time ago, she found herself praying to the Holy Mother for help but found it preposterous in mid-prayer. Would anyone find her? Probably not, there was a match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff that day, and the rest of the time would be spent in Hogsmeade by the students. She starred at the wand that had been laid on the bedside table earlier that morning. It was difficult to remain sane when certain escape was lying helplessly only a few inches away from her, peeking out from underneath an edition of the Daily Prophet.  
  
She looked up at the familiar sound of swishing robes at Snape appeared in the doorway holding a small goblet of water.  
  
"Here." He said, handing it to Hermione as if no barrier existed at all.  
  
She took it and crawled to the corner of the bed, leaning against the invisible wall and gulping quickly. Hermione forgot where she was for a split moment and attempted to hand the goblet back to the Professor as he looked down at her in admiration, much like an exotic bird kept in a cage. Her knuckles only met something as hard as steel, causing her to drop the goblet and nurse her injuries with her mouth. Snape simply reached in and grabbed the goblet, setting it on the bedside table.  
  
"So beautiful," he sighed from where he stood, reaching in and petting her stray hairs.  
  
Hermione threw herself against the invisible area; pounding her fist and making him take back his hand.  
  
"Why are you doing this to me?" she screamed at the top of her lungs.  
  
Nonchalantly, Snape put a finger to his ear as if he was clearing it out. "You're too precious to let go, my dear. I can't lose you." He said in a surprisingly sincere voice.  
  
She wasn't sure what was more unnerving- the fact that she was being kept like a pet or Snape's sudden change into a heart broken man. He sat down in an over stuffed chair on the other side of the room, his lean figure sipping tea with long, skinny fingers while looking over a science periodical. Every once in a while, he would look up from the black and white paper and smile at Hermione where she would only try her hardest to produce a glare like no other.  
  
Deciding that her anger was getting her no where, she tried to be sneaky and clever. "Prof – Severus, I need to use the lavatory quite badly."  
  
He stood up and walked over towards the bed, accessing the situation.  
  
"Fine" he said at last. He took out his wand and to her dismay, did another body bind until she was securely locked in the bathroom of the Hogwart's Potion Master. Even the bathroom was grim, Hermione observed as she picked herself off the floor. She rubbed her arm and noted the unpleasant stiffness left by the body bind. She really had no reason to use the lavatory, but she was hoping to find some way out. Unfortunately, Snape's bathroom mirrored his personality. Windowless with cold stones on the walls and floors, only an antique bathtub with gold feet in one corner, a wrought iron towel rack with green towels- of course- and a loo so old fashioned it would be considered an antique in the 19th century. The rest of the small room was empty and no trace of an exit was to be found. Desperately, she tried pushing and pulling against the stones, hoping there was some sort of escape route, perhaps a hidden doorway- she wasn't sure what she was hoping for. Hogwart's was full of surprises including secret passage ways and changing staircases, Snape's lavatory was void of them.  
  
There was a knock on the door, obviously Snape and a voice asking if she was ready.  
  
"Yes" she said in her sweetest voice, biting her tongue and holding in the rage that was about to explode from her chest.  
  
She could hear Snape on the other side of the thick wooden door taking off the wards in very quick Latin. He opened the door for her, very gentlemanly like, with his wand out and pointed at her in preparation for another body bind so she could be safely deposited into her cell.  
  
Hermione took that moment as her chance and ran and grabbed one end of his wand, causing a struggle as she tried desperately to change its aim to anywhere but at her. Surprised, Severus Snape fought back, attempting to free his wand from his prisoner's grip but his sweaty hands betrayed him and she was in control of the wand. Nervously, she pointed the foreign stick at him, holding it awkwardly with both hands as it was much longer than hers.  
  
"Stay back!" She warned. "I'm not afraid to use an Unforgivable." Her hands were nervously shaking and Snape was closing in on her in slow steps and a grin on his face.  
  
"Angel," he said, "Just hand over the wand."  
  
"No!" she yelled but he kept coming closer.  
  
"I told you to stay back!" she screamed, but the distance between the two was getting smaller by the second.  
  
Grasping the wand with all her might, she screamed, "iAvada Kedavra/i" She felt the wand give a mighty jump into her hands, and a green light blinding her despite the fact that her eyes were squeezed together tightly. For a moment, she thought she had done the deed, and cautiously opened her eyes only to find Severus coming out of a crouched position.  
  
He lunged at her and plucked the wand from her hand, pulling her into a tight grip with her back to him and his elbow around her neck. She squirmed and tried to get free as he pointed the wand at her dangerously and huffed what could be interpreted as a laugh.  
  
"Almost thought you had me there for a minute, but you can't cast such a strong spell from a wand that isn't yours. You silly girl, all you did was make fireworks." She squirmed harder and he tightened his grip around her neck, "Shame on you"  
  
Hermione suddenly remembered childhood tv movies and their fail-proof self defense plan. She immediately twisted around and kneed him in his groin causing him to let go of his grip.  
  
Snape crouched down, his hands resting on his knees catching his breath as Hermione ran across the room towards the door leading towards the classroom. She was so close, the metal of the door was in her grasp as she felt the tightening of her entire body as she fell to the floor. She could see Snape, his wand in his hand standing upright but shaking his head as if he had taken a shot of strong whiskey.  
  
"Don't you have any manners?" he hissed, levitating over to the bed and casting the wards to lock her in.  
  
Hermione stood up with her body pressed against the barrier, banging her fists against it with all her might. "I hope you die you sick bastard!"  
  
"Oh Hermione, I'm sure you don't mean that." He said in a low voice. "You're lucky I didn't kill you for trying me like you do."  
  
"You wouldn't dare. People are probably looking for me right now, you'd be caught."  
  
"Not anymore."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"After all, Ms. Granger," Snape said admiring his fingernails, "Polyjuice potion isn't too difficult, now is it?" 


	17. Come Back

A boy and a girl tiptoed down the corridor leading away from the Ravenclaw common room. The girl, short but petite, with her blonde hair in a ponytail tied with a pink ribbon tried to hush her giggles as the boy held her hand and led her to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.  
  
"What are we doing here?" The blonde Ravenclaw asked.  
  
"No one ever comes in here. It's safe, I promise," he said before kissing her in that awkward, childish manner and pulling her in the bathroom.  
  
The girl followed sheepishly with her lips locked to his. They closed the door behind them as the boy continued to slurp at her face and tried to lay her on the floor.  
  
"No!" she protested, "It's dirty!"  
  
The boy took a wand out of his robes as he stood at an odd angle in order to conceal his most obvious erection.  
  
"Ok," he said, trying to focus his concentration on the task at hand, "Alright, we learned this in Transfiguration, and I can take something like um-" he looked around the dark and dreary bathroom before laying his eyes on a bathroom tissue dispenser. "Right, all I need is one of these and then, hmm." He pointed his wand at the piece of the toilet tissue he had laid on the ground before him and muttered something under his breath. Immediately, the tissue was larger than the two of them put together and much resembling a blanket if it weren't for the quilted, two-ply give-away.  
  
The young blonde giggled as the boy kissed her necked and allowed her to lay down on the oversized, two-ply toilet tissue. He attacked her neck with his tongue, making her squirm as he played with the buttons on her blouse to no avail.  
  
"Argh," he growled, sitting up and beginning to un-button the white blouse under her robes. The girl giggled as she watched him fumble as his slightly chubby fingers tried desperately to get inside her shirt. She looked over his shoulder for a brief second and jumped up as she screamed.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Over there, look!" the girl screamed, muffling her mouth with her hands. The young boy looked in the direction she was pointing and saw a pair of black shoes sticking out the farthest stall and an arm dangling loosely out of the side.  
  
"Oh god," he exclaimed, rushing over to the stall. He pulled it open and looked back at his girlfriend, his eyes wide and his skin ghostly white.  
  
"Who is it?" she asked excitedly  
  
"Hermione Granger...."  
  
"Are you serious?" she exclaimed, rushing to his side and putting her hand over her mouth again. The body on the floor was badly beaten, bruises evident on the skin between her lifted skirt and her white knee socks.  
  
"What are we going to do?"  
  
"I don't know, I don't know," the boy responded, looking at the Head Girl's body in shock. "We need to go get someone, now!"  
  
"No! We can't! How are we supposed to explain why we were in the girls' loo? If my father ever found out about you- Oh, Merlin, he'd kill me, he'd absolutely kill me!"  
  
"Well, what are we supposed to do? Just leave her here? Gods!"  
  
"I don't know!" she screamed and flung her hands to her sides, "I can't be caught here; I have to go."  
  
"What do you mean you have to go?" the boy asked as he saw his girlfriend dart out of the bathroom and run back to the safety of Ravenclaw common room.  
  
"Argh," he mumbled to himself, "just- stay-" he said pointing at her comatose body, "Just stay there, I'll go get help."  
  
He ran out of the bathroom in the opposite direction of the Ravenclaw common rooms and towards the Hospital Wing.  
  
Madame Pomfrey was carefully stocking her storeroom, trying to keep busy despite the lack of students in her ward when an impatient knock at the door startled her. She flattened her white apron and busily walked towards the door to find a young boy she hardly recognized with a flushed face and panting.  
  
"Madame Pomfrey... in... Moaning... Myrtle's... bathroom..."  
  
"What is it, boy?" the nurse asked, concerned.  
  
"Granger.. in.. there..."  
  
"Is she okay?"  
  
The boy shook his head no.  
  
"Oh my," Madame Pomfrey whispered, "show me," as she followed the young boy down the corridor and across a flight of stairs until they were at the entrance. The boy slung open the door and pointed to the limp, bruised arm dangling from underneath the last stall.  
  
Meanwhile, Remus Lupin was hanging around the outside of the infirmary, wondering where Madame Pomfrey could have gone. The full moon was approaching, it would be there the next night and his headaches were getting worse. The noise of shoes against the hard stone floors caught Remus' attention. He looked up and saw the Madame and a young boy floating a girl towards the infirmary. At first, he assumed it was some young lad, hurting himself with a silly stunt as was the case so much of the time, but something caught his eye- the glimmer of a Head Girl badge.  
  
"What's going on?" Lupin asked in his deep voice, surveying the body of his student. "What happened?" se asked again, following the witch as she lay the body on an empty bed.  
  
"Run along, Crown," she said, shooing the boy out of the infirmary.  
  
The bustling witch quickly closed the door and looked at Lupin. In a hushed voice she said, "Crown found her in the bathroom, Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. It looks like she's been beaten."  
  
Lupin went to Hermiones' side as Madame Pomfrey quickly gathered a tray of ingredients. His emotions were mixing in a fashion that he had never felt before. He had seen injured students before, even good friends in his years right after Hogwarts, but this girl, she was something different. Emotion was a concept new to him; he had never allowed himself to get too attached to anyone. He preferred books and their inability to be judgmental. But, Merlin, he felt a tear in the corner of his eye. He clenched his fists, feeling his nails dig into the soft flesh of his hands. The mediwitch rushed around him in a surge of robes, and he tried to help, to offer his medical knowledge, but he was only getting in the way. Instead he took a chance to go to the lavatory.  
  
He walked to the loo attached to the infirmary and immediately turned on the water faucet and splashed his face with cold water to relieve his throbbing head. He ran his damp hands through his hair before resting them on the edge of the sink and taking a long look at himself in the mirror before him. He had gotten old, his hair was greyer than it was at the beginning of the year, and the shadowy bags under his eyes had failed to disappear. He looked down at his hands, wondering why this was affecting him so much.  
  
Hermione was the most intelligent girl- no- woman that he had ever met and so full of potential. Her mind wasn't the only thing that was beautiful, she was. Despite the fact that she pulled her hair back in tight buns highly resembling those of her Head of House, her skin was silky white, her cheekbones high, and her eyes were a dark brown window to her mind. Just like her, they shone brightly whenever she was excited or whenever she knew the answer to a particularly difficult question. In his mind, he could picture the younger Hermione Granger from her third year and watch her transform into this woman of great intelligence and presence who had been pulled down by Duplexplicis.  
  
The fact that someone could actually hurt her dumbfounded him. Of course, he suspected Snape at first, but he had no evidence and didn't think leaving her for dead in a bathroom would be his style. Yes, Snape was cruel, but as far as Lupin knew, not cruel enough to practically beat the girl to death.  
  
Remus gathered himself and walked back into the infirmary to find Madame Pomfrey in a fuss in the corner, wagging her finger at three figures in the doorway. On closer inspection, he recognized them as Harry, Ron, and Ginny.  
  
"Madame Pomfrey, let them in, I'll make sure they won't disturb anything."  
  
She sighed heavily. "Professor, with all due respect, it's after hours, they shouldn't be out of their rooms."  
  
"Madame, with all due respect to /i, this is their best friend. I think they have the right to see her."  
  
The mediwitch gave him a sharp glare and hurried off to busy herself.  
  
"Moony, what's going on?" Harry asked, peeping over his professor's shoulder to get a look at the figure on the white hospital bed.  
  
Remus couldn't think of anything to say and let them by so they could see for themselves. He heard loud gasps and saw Ginny go pale and cover her mouth with her hands. Harry looked over at Remus for answers.  
  
"We heard from the Ravenclaws that she was found in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, but who- who would have done this?" he said, pointing at the bruises and dried blood on his friend.  
  
"I don't know, Harry."  
  
Ginny couldn't take her eyes off of Hermione's body, and he could see tears swelling in her eyes. Remus gestured to the girl's brother. "Come on, Gin. It's going to be okay," her brother said soothingly, leading her to a set of chairs on the opposite wall.  
  
At first glance, Harry looked dumbfounded, but as he turned to face Remus, his furious expression was evident.  
  
"It was Snape," he spat. "I'll kill him, that fuck."  
  
Remus grabbed his shoulders with a tight grip. "Harry, you need to calm down. We have no proof that it was Snape."  
  
"I saw him in Hermione's quarters the day before yesterday. I know it was him. He's mad because everyone knows he was the one drugging her."  
  
This was new information to Remus.  
  
"We have no proof," Remus repeated.  
  
Madame Pomfrey, who had been busily working on Hermione, came around and tapped on the professor's shoulder.  
  
"Professor, I need to speak to you."  
  
He turned back to Harry. "Stay here."  
  
Remus followed the mediwitch to a secluded section of the room, out of hearing range of the students.  
  
"I'm afraid she's unconscious for now. She's suffered severe trauma to the head. I've tried various potions, but she's not coming out of it. Remus," she said, taking a deep breath, "I'm afraid she's-"  
  
Lupin stopped her in mid-sentence. "I don't want to hear that," he said harshly.  
  
He went back to Hermione's bed, where the three students were standing, and he smelled the variety of usual odors. The dirt of the boys' shoes, the scents used in Ginny's hair, but there was something different, a light musky smell that he couldn't quite recognize.  
  
"She's shaking!" Ginny screamed. Lupin rushed over and saw Hermione's body convulse heavily. Harry, Ron, and Ginny backed away, allowing Lupin access. Lupin held his hands against the side of her head, holding it down so she wouldn't injure herself.  
  
"Get Granthum Syrup, now!" he barked across the room to Madame Pomfrey, who ran to her stores and then toward the bed with a small vial. With steady hands, she unscrewed it and pressed it against the lips of the convulsing girl's body as her arms and legs trashed.  
  
It dribbled down her chin, allowing only a small portion to enter her mouth. Madame Pomfrey stood back while Lupin still held on to the convulsing girl's head and putting a hand on her chest so she wouldn't injure her neck with her seizure, but Harry could see it in his eyes, something was wrong.  
  
Lupin exchanged nervous looks with the mediwitch who appeared for the first time, nervous herself. The girl kept convulsing, to the point that her hands and arms were flying astray and knocking over glasses and vials on the bedside table.  
  
"Its okay, Hermione. It's going to be okay." He whispered to the thrashing girl.  
  
"Something is wrong, isn't it?" Ginny asked through her tears.  
  
Madame Pomfrey nodded grimly and the convulsions continued, seemingly gaining more strength.  
  
"It should have worked by now," the Madame whispered more to herself than anyone else.  
  
After a few moments, the convulsions subsided. The thrashing and noises of things falling to the floor came to a halt. Everyone was silent as Ron and Harry backed away.  
  
Hermione's brown eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling. Her body was limp and motionless and her mouth was parted morbidly.  
  
Ginny's sobs were the only sound in the room as the two boys looked at their best friend. Ron wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his red sweater and Harry collapsed in a chair, holding his head in his hands.  
  
Lupin looked down at the girl, his heart fallen to his stomach, and wished her back a thousand times to no success. He pushed her hair out of her face and behind her ears, admiring her sweet face one last time. Two circular sores on her forehead protruded grossly, but Lupin still thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He kissed her forehead lightly before walking out of the infirmary solemnly. Nothing more could be done, Hermione Granger was dead. 


	18. Try Again

The young girl opened her heavy eyelids to find her mind blurred. For a moment, she thought she was in the sanctuary of her quarters and habitually patted around to find Crookshanks, her usual bedmate. Instead, her hand landed on a large lump highly resembling the body of her potions master. Instantly, she snatched her hand back, afraid she had woken him, but was reassured by the sound of deep breathing and a barely audible snore. Hermione began to sit herself up with her hands. Despite the fact that her cell consisted of his bed, the audacity of Snape to sleep with his prisoner shocked her. Her mind lost track when all of the sudden, her fingertips felt hard, cold wood. Hermione's heart dropped, or exploded, she couldn't tell, but her mind was racing. Could it possibly be what she thought it was, would he really be ignorant, or arrogant, enough to leave his wand underneath his pillow and easily accessible to his prisoner? Either way, she didn't care. Carefully, trying to move as little as possible, she inched the long wand out of his pillow, taking brief moments to make sure she had not awoken him. Satisfied that the man she had come to hate so much was still asleep, she pulled the wand to her chest and closed her eyes. Perhaps she made a fatal error the first time not knowing the enormous amount of concentration involved in an Unforgivable, especially when using someone else's wand, but she would not make the same mistake twice. With both hands, she steadied herself, fully prepared to kill the bastard who had kept her hostage and taken away her innocence in more ways than one. With all her anger bottled up inside her chest, she aimed the wand at the man and inhaled deeply prepared to cast the Avada Kedavra, but at the last moment, she saw him roll over and his eyes lock with hers. For the first time, his façade flinched; she saw a long slinder hand reach out and grab for the wand, but it was too late.  
  
"Avada-"she hesitated for the briefest of moments, "Imperio!" despite her anger, she couldn't kill him in cold blood. A green light flew from the tip of the wand with such force that it threw Hermione against the invisible wall. Hermione looked up to find the hand still outstretched in a last attempt to save his life that Hermione was weak enough to spare.  
  
"Sit up!" she ordered. Immediately, the long lean body belonging to her Professor sat up stiffly the covers falling off revealing a white upper torso. A small grin appeared across her face. He was under her control now.  
  
"Tell me how to take off the charms. Now!" she screamed, still afraid that he might come out of the spell at any moment.  
  
To her amazement, he calmly began telling her the spells to take off the wards to the bed in a nonchalant voice. She was impressed at the extent he went to keep her in her cell. The tricky combination of a huge amount of spells took her a while to get out of the cell.  
  
Once her feet touched the stone laid ground, her heart leapt. She was free. She looked at Snape, the ever faithful victim of her curse and still wished him dead. iIt's not too late./i she told herself. His eyes looked cold and lifeless as he looked at her, waiting for her next command. The devil inside of her justified that she had already performed an Unforgivable and she so badly wanted to watch him lie on the floor and squirm in pain and beg her to stop the same way she had with him when she tried to resist Duplexplicis. She could, she thought. She certainly had a defense- the man had held her prisoner for two days.  
Hermione considered it, pointing the long wand in his direction and glaring. iBut first, I need my own wand back./i She illuminated the room with a simple spell from Snape's wand and grabbed her own from the bedside table. It fit in her hand like a glove, reminding her of the first time she held it in awe. After numerous failed attempts with other wands, this one, her other half had literally leapt from a box in Diagon Alley and fell in front of her with no command given. The old man had laughed and told her, "You don't choose the wand, the wand chooses you." Yes, her wand was perfect, and she loved it dearly.  
  
Not wanting to be like a criminal in a James Bond movie who always leaves a weapon right out of reach, she decided to break his wand. In the wizarding world, breaking someone's wand was the ultimate sign of disrespect, worse than spitting in your face or sleeping with your wife. She set hers down once more, a little reluctantly and held his with a hand at each end. At first she attempted to break it over her knee, but it soon became obvious that it was not going to budge. She moved over to the book case and noted that the sharp corner of the bookcase would be perfect. She cracked it over the edge, but it seemed to only bend right back into shape. Determined, Hermione pushed the middle of the wand against the edge with all her might and weight thrown into it. Sparks of every color began to fly, making a loud wheezing sound. Hermione dropped it, in shock. Snape's wand was not about to be broken, despite her attempts. She honestly felt as if she had angered it, that is, if wands had feelings. Carefully, she picked up.  
"Turn around!" Hermione ordered and watched Snape do as asked.  
She felt like a child as she hid the wand behind the bookcase.  
  
She patted her robes, feeling dirty and unwashed. Hermione considered taking her wand and running to someone, someone who could help, perhaps Remus or McGonagull. In fact, that would be the logical thing to do, but for once in her life, Hermione's logic was quickly overthrown by her emotions. She wanted to hurt Snape, make him feel a tenth of the pain she had endured over the past few months. She moved closer to his lean figure sitting on the bed and paused for a moment, before she slapped him across the face with all her strength.  
  
His face moved with the force and returned to its original position, unfazed. Merlin, that felt good. She slapped him with no repercussion and wanted to do it again, or perhaps, something worse. Adrenalin rushed through her veins giving her a high only comparable to that of Duplexplicis.  
  
She stepped away and pushed back her hair. "Why did you do this to me?" She yelled with all her might. "Tell me why!"  
  
"Because I adore you." He said in a deadpan voice, responding to her command.  
  
Hermione took a deep breath, "If you adore me, why did you risk my life with Duplexplicis, or keep me locked in a cell for two days for you admiration? Why? You sick fuck. I despise you."  
  
"I wanted to keep you for myself. I didn't want to see you fall into the hands of anyone else. They couldn't possibly appreciate you the way I do. They couldn't possibly fathom the jewel-"Snape's declaration stopped mid-sentence as a loud crack filled the room.  
  
Hermione held the heavy steel platter that once held her food while she was captive. She set it back on the bedside table, panting and unsure of what to do as she looked at the lifeless form of Severus Snape sprawled on the bed. She didn't know what came over her, but hearing him talk and say those things, acting as if he loved her, no even thought of her as a human being was an obvious lie. For him to keep on with the act was only insult to injury.  
  
Wearily, Hermione stepped towards the bed, looking at the lifeless body. Had she killed him? His eyes were closed and she couldn't see any obvious signs of breathing. Her heart raced in either guilt or happiness- she couldn't tell. She slowly reached out a hand to check the pulse on the side of his neck. Her two fingers pressed down against the soft flesh and she could feel the blood rushing through his veins underneath.  
  
Realizing he was only unconscious, Hermione turned on her heels and headed for the door. As her hand grasped the metal of the door, a strong arm grasped her from around her waist and pulled her to him. Holding her hair tightly, he whispered in her ear, "Don't be so foolish." 


	19. Take It Back

"Let go of me," she commanded, confident in the power of her curse. Hermione could feel his grasp falter for a moment before returning to its original strength, if not harder.  
  
"I've been a Deatheater since I became of age. Do you honestly think I've never been a victim of Imperio?"  
  
Hermione cursed herself for not running when she had the chance.  
  
"Mmm," Snape moaned, pulling her hair and inhaling the scent of his hostage before throwing her across the room with suprising strength.  
  
Hermione landed against a small stack of bookshelves. The back of her head had taken most of the impact of the fall, causing her mind to blur for a moment between consciousness and unconsciousness. Her eyes opened wide as he strode toward her in slow steps.  
  
"I've tried, my dear, I really have," he began. "I've tried to love you despite the things you do, but..." he sighed, rubbing the wounded left side of his head, "You've gone too far. I can't let you leave."  
  
He plucked the wand from the hiding place in the bookshelves with ease and never took his eyes off her. He aimed it at Hermione with a devilish smile that seeped forgiveness. "Goodnight, Hermione."  
  
Hermione opened her mouth in preparation for a scream as a light shot from the tip of Snape's wand and hit her in the chest. She felt as if she was falling backwards with the familiar feeling of something latched to her navel and dragging her down. But there was no end or portkey on the other side, only darkness and the feeling of cold enveloped her.  
  
Meanwhile, Remus had chaperoned the three mourning students back to their Common Room. Once inside the portrait of the Fat Lady, Ron took an immediate seat in his usual over stuffed chair next to the fireplace and rested his face in his hands.  
  
Harry clenched and unclenched his hands as he had done all night as a tearful Ginny buried her face in his chest.  
  
"What's wrong?" Neville asked, coming down the steps of the Boy's Dorm in his usual night time attire- a light blue one piece pajama, including footies. He rubbed his eyes open and gave a slight yawn. "Why are you guys so upset?"  
  
Ginny took her face out of Harry's chest and looked at Neville, "Hermione.." she began before breaking into another sob.  
  
Neville's eyes opened widely, "Is she okay? She's okay, right?" he asked, his eyes begging them to say yes, but Harry merely shook his head no. Neville stood in shock for a moment before quickly walking towards the door, "I want to go see her." He demanded, but Harry held out an arm to stop him.  
  
"It's too late." He said sadly.  
  
Neville looked at Harry, as if he was unable to comprehend what was just said. "Is she--" he began. Harry nodded his head.  
  
"She's dead." Neville said to himself as the reality of the situation set in. His jaw clenched and Harry thought he saw tears swell up in the corner of his eyes.  
  
"Who did it?" He asked Harry.  
  
Harry fought the urge to tell him that that sick, murdering bastard of Severus Snape had done it, but remembered Remus reminding him that he had no proof and didn't want anyone else to suffer the fight between wanting to kill Snape and remaining calm for the safety of themselves.  
  
"We don't know." Harry admitted with reluctance in his throat.  
  
Ginny's whimpers were audible and Harry patted her back, "It's going to be ok, Gin." He said, trying to reassure himself simultaneously.  
  
A few more students had heard the conversation taking place downstairs and were appearing at the top of the steps spiraling down from the Boy's and the Girl's Dormitories.  
  
"What's all the noise about?" A short Colin Creevy asked.  
  
"Yeah, What's going on?" Lavendar asked from the opposite side of the room with her hands on her hips and obviously perturbed that her much needed beauty sleep had been so rudely interrupted.  
  
Harry looked up at all the faces looking down at him for an answer, but his mouth went dry.  
  
"Hermione is dead." Neville said in a barely audible tone of voice.  
  
"What?" Creevy asked, "Hermione is dead?"  
  
There were gasps from the common room as people's eyes opened widely or covered their mouth with their hands in shock.  
  
The students began slowly filing down the steps, talking amongst their selves.  
  
"Who did it?" Someone yelled from the back of the small crowd, presumably the obnoxiously loud third year girl with red pig tails.  
  
"We don't know" Harry announced over the crowd.  
  
More conversations began amongst the group of Gryffindors and Harry happened to pick up on a sly comment coming from the mouth of a smug Parvati Patil with her arms over crossed over her chest. "Personally, I'm glad she's dead. Maybe I have a chance as Head Girl now." She said quietly to her confidant, Lavendar.  
  
Even Lavender looked up at her in surprise.  
  
"What?" Parvati asked innocently, but before she knew it, a blur of red tackled her.  
  
"Take it back!" Ginny demanded, crouched on top of the body of the above mentioned Miss Patil. "Take it back!" she repeated, grasping on to her hair and yanking it down, causing the back of her head to meet the cold stone floor with a vegence.  
  
The crowd separated, allowing full view of the redhead's fury. Ron got up from his seat and helped Harry pull his sister off the girl protecting her face with her hands.  
  
"Ginny! Calm down!" Ron demanded, not hearing what had provoked the fight.  
  
"That's right, you little bitch," Parvati began as she stood to her feet feeling confidant that the two boys had a tight grip on the other girl, "I said I'm glad she's dead!" she said smugly to the shock of everyone else in the crowd who hadn't witnessed the spats between Hermione and Parvati.  
  
Parvati smiled and turned on her heel, "Maybe I can go back to sleep now."  
  
In shock, Ron loosened his grip on his sister and with a smile, Harry knowingly let go, allowing the full fury of Ginny Weasley to be unleashed. Ginny ran and tackled the girl from the back. Holding her head and trying to bang it against the floor. Parvati rolled over as Ginny gave numerous right hooks to her face and put two hands around Ginny's neck. Ginny did the same, her face going red due to a lack of oxygen.  
  
In the midst of the brawl, Parvati ended up on top, slapping Ginny's hands away from her neck and holding them down with her right hand as she slapped the other girl with her left.  
  
Parvati was yanked off of Ginny who was soon restrained again. Parvati gave Ginny a side look and ran to her dormitory, crying loudly.  
  
Ginny was so upset she just crawled in a chair and pulled her legs against her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. 


	20. Fight

As the sun rose above the trees of the Forbidden Forest, a lone beam of light reflecting off a tea cup smelling strongly of Fire Whiskey was held by a hand that had seen better days. It was decorated with scars, more than the usual amount of hair on its knuckles, and untrimmed fingernails.  
  
Like his hand, Remus Lupin had seen better days as he tilted back the small cup. It was obvious he had not slept during the previous night. Instead he had sat at his desk, contemplating the events of the night before. Hermione's limp form was the only image in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to push it out. He couldn't understand why he was taking her death so harshly. He had certainly seen his fair share of deaths, especially in the war. He had even witnessed the death of some of the most promising students from his class- young witches and wizards with a whole life ahead of them if it wasn't for a stray iAvada Kadavra/i or a deliberate attack on their life. Perhaps it was the fact that he had tried to so hard to save her and had failed. But it wasn't just a failed attempt, it was Hermione Granger herself. Despite how hard he tried to control himself, he couldn't help but feel a warm feeling in his chest whenever he had seen her smile or when she brushed a hand across his arm. She was only a student, yes, but sometimes things were beyond his control.  
  
A single tear threatened to escape, but was stopped when he clenched his jaw. This was the first time in what seemed like decades that he had come close to shedding a tear. Even from a young age, Remus Lupin controlled his emotions with an iron fist. He was so used to rejection and ridicule for his condition that he had promised himself not to come close enough to anyone that could possibly hurt him like he had been hurt in the past.  
  
Remus stood up and walked towards the stained glass window. Tapping on it with his wand, it became crystal clear, allowing him to gaze at the grounds below him. He was about two stories above ground. Off to the far left, he could see the towering quidditch hoops through a light fog. To the right, bubbles appeared on the surface of the lake as the Giant Squid stuck out a tentacle and snaked it towards a deer grazing on the green grass and gently tapped it on its back. The deer turned around and ran away in fright as the tentacle slid back in the water. The Giant Squid had always seemed to find ways to entertain itself. Then Remus noticed the moon setting down for the night, only a small sliver of shadow prevented it from being a full moon. iTonight is going to be a long night,/i Remus thought to himself.  
  
The sound of noise cluttered the hallway outside of Remus' office, informing him that the students were awake for the first classes and were already bustling down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Remus' stomach gave a small growl demanding food, but he ignored it. He didn't feel like eating. Instead Remus went to an adjoining bathroom and washed up briefly before classes.  
  
The first class of the day was Gryffindor and Slytherin- definently not Remus' favorite. As the students flowed in and took their seats, Remus gave a deep sigh. Ron and Harry took their usual seat in a mournful tone and it was obvious that the feeling had spread through the rest of the Gryffidor House with the exception of Pavarti Patil who had a sour look on her face as she winced when she touched her black eye.  
  
On the other side of the room, the Slytherins were slightly calmer than usual with the exception of Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. Draco was making comments to her and his goonies out of the corner of his mouth and his following would snicker in delight. Remus knew they were laughing over the death of Hermione Granger and he could feel the blood rush to his clenched fists. It wouldn't do any good to take out his anger on students, he reminded himself. Remus Lupin's common sense had failed him that morning and he was forced to go back to his office and grab the graded scrolls to return to the students.  
  
"Hey, Potter? Where's the mudblood?" Draco asked mockingly.  
  
Harry didn't bother to respond; he looked down to the open book in front of him and began to read.  
  
"Worm food," Malfoy snickered under his breath.  
  
Neville Longbottom stood up and looked at Malfoy with the most intense anger expressed on his face. "Malfoy- you-" he stuttered, trying to think of a single insult that would humiliate him in front of all his peers, but all that managed to come out of Neville's mouth were, "You're stupid." Embarrassed, Neville resumed his seat.  
  
"Is that all you have, Neville?"  
  
Neville hung his head low as his face turned red.  
  
"What are you going to do now that your girlfriend is gone? Are you going to ask your toad to the dance? It would be better than that filthy mudblood..."  
  
In a flash, Neville jumped from his seat and lunged at Malfoy. Malfoy stood up and stepped back as Neville approached with his wand out.  
  
"You better shut up, Malfoy."  
  
Although he would never admit it, Draco was slightly intimidated by the rage expressed in the ever shy Neville Longbottom, but one look at his friends assured him he would never live it down if he let Neville get away with it.  
  
"Go sit down before I hurt you," Draco said patronizingly, pulling his own wand out of his sleeve pocket.  
  
The students seated around the imminent duel eased out of their chairs and out of the line of fire.  
  
"You don't have the guts to touch me, Longbottom," Draco continued.  
  
"I don't?" Neville said with raised eyebrows, walking closer to Draco and backing him towards a wall.  
  
"iBerccio Areva!/i" Neville screamed. An electric blue streak shot from the tip of his wand and hit Draco in the chest, causing him to shake violently as if he had just shared a bath with a toaster.  
  
Everyone watched as the shaking Draco regained himself and pointed his wand at Neville with a deadly stare.  
  
"You're going to be sharing a grave next to that filthy mudblood soon, Longbottom," Draco began. "Atoro Ke-"  
  
"iAccio! Finite Gratum! Sullio Ignosio!/i"  
  
Neville Spat out the spells with a confidence that no one would have ever expected from the pink-faced boy.  
  
Draco's wand was plucked from his hand by an invisible force and landed in Neville's grasp as Draco was pushed against the wall violently and bound to the wall with slithering black ropes that seemed to have appeared out of the cracks in the stone wall behind him.  
  
Panting, Neville looked around, as if surprised by his own actions. If it hadn't been such a solemn day, perhaps Neville's stunt would have caused an outburst of laughter. Instead, the class, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike, stared at Neville with loose jaws. Neville felt nervous- he had never been one to stay in the spotlight for any length of time, he much rather stay in the corner of the room watching.  
  
Remus Lupin came back through the large wood and wrought iron door separating his office from the classroom. Although his attention was focused on not dropping the scrolls he had in his arm, the unusual silence forced him to look up with curiousity. The sight before him was not expected. Neville stood guilty with a dropped wand and bright red cheeks in front of a cursed Draco Malfoy who was struggling against black ropes that held him to a wall, and as if proving there was justice in the world, a thick gag in his mouth.  
  
Remus knew what the fight had been about, he had expected as much although he hoped that a shred of human decency had been passed to Draco and would allow him to see what a disgustingly inappropriate time it would be to display his racism. The professor set the scrolls down and hurried to Neville's side. Muffled protests were audible from Draco as the professor led Neville out of the room and into the hallway.  
  
The color in Neville's face dropped, displaying the palest face he had seen in some time. His knuckles were grasped around the wand in his hand so tightly they were an eerie, iredescent white.  
  
"I'm, I'm- I'm so sorry," Neville stumbled. "I didn- I didn't mean- mean to. He just– just called – Herm- Hermione a mudblood." Tears were dripping down the boy's face.  
  
"It's okay, Neville, I understand. I just thought you needed to get out of there. How about you go lay down until you feel a little better?" the professor suggested in a fatherly manner with his hand on the boy's shoulder.  
  
Neville nodded and walked slowly to his dormitory.  
  
As the Professor entered his classroom for another attempt at normal day of class, he could see that it wasn't possible. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were taking turns blowing into the tip of their wands, causing disgusting, wet wads of paper to be shot out the other end- thanks to a book by the Weasley twins giving out the 101 most obnoxious charms.  
  
Pansy Parkinson was screeching as her fingers felt a newly appeared pig's nose on the center of her face. She whined for help from Millicent Bulstrode who was too busy hitting Goyle with her wand after he dared to sneak a grab at her behind.  
  
Remus Lupin sighed at the utter chaos in his room and made his way around the classroom, plucking wands out of every student's hand until he had a big bundle in his grip.  
  
The students, who looked at him in shock, watched as he released Draco from Neville's curse and placed the bundle of wands on his desk.  
  
"Collect your wand as you leave- class is dismissed," Remus ordered in his deep voice before walking into his office and locking the door behind him. He lay down on his dark brown couch, resting his eyelids until it was time to go ask Snape for his wolfsbane potion. 


	21. Almost Done

Sleep, the queer old man who danced and frolicked around in fairy tales had once again come to visit Lupin only to pass him by with a snicker. The werewolf readjusted himself on the couch, as the thoughts that he tried so hard to fight away only rebelliously flew through his mind at mach speeds like little vandals in order to leave their scars but not get caught. Giving up on any hopes of rest, Lupin reluctantly sat himself up and began to fasten the snaps on his robes.  
  
Standing up, Lupin momentarily considered finding Pomfrey or McGonagull to find out how the morbid final arrangements were coming along. In the back of his mind, he wondered how Hermione's parents had taken the news, or in that case, whether they had even heard it since last he heard, they were conveniently unreachable aboard a plan flying over the ocean on it's way to visit family on the other side of the pond. Of course, notifying them on a flight over the Atlantic would be an impossible feat. Unfortunately, Boeing had failed to miss the importance of fireplaces on its planes to be used for mid-flight wizard communications and simply sending an owl was on in the top 10 of most absurd things to do. Even worse, they didn't want one of Hedwig's relatives to become victim to the suction like propellers belonging to the jet engines.  
  
As he looked out of the window, he noted that the sun was at its highest peak in the day's sky and only a few hours remained before the full moon had its way with him. Lupin rubbed his aching hands in anticipation of nightfall. Wolfsbane not only managed to control the primitive instinct of the werewolf inside of him, but it also assisted in the painful transformation from man to wolf and the soreness before and after. Lupin turned around to grab his Wolfsbane from the drawer in his desk only to realize he hadn't picked it up yet.  
  
Perhaps it was a good thing he had a reason to take a walk through the castle, otherwise, Lupin thought to himself, he couldn't see another reason why he would force himself to leave the office before nightfall. On his way down to the dungeons, students flowed out of their classrooms in order to get a bite to eat in the Great Hall. A surprisingly fearful Draco Malfoy made a point to shut his mouth and look straight ahead when passing the werewolf, perhaps the morning's incident had done some good. Half way down, in the middle of a swarm of students, a towering Slytherin Head of House stood near the door of the library.  
  
"Ah, Severus, I was coming to pay you a visit." Lupin said in a lame attempt for conversation.  
  
Of course, Severus obviously still lacked social tact and only nodded, "Here," He said, pulling a bottle from his pocket. Suspiciously, Lupin put it in his own noting that something was different. Perhaps it was the fact that the usually grim Professor was oozing with something else, another unnamable emotion was smeared on his face for all to see whether he wanted it that way or not. But as the other Professor nodded his goodbye and spun on his heels to return to the dungeons, Lupin figured it out.  
  
All people have a unique smell, a frothy mixture of sweat and pheromones that seeped from every pore. To Lupin and his rather advanced sense of smell, this was another form of identification, such as a name. All he knew was that Snape lacked his secondary form of identification and was completely void of smell. No sweat, no pheromones, no soap, nothing. To Lupin, this was suspicious to say the least. Not many people acknowledged the fact they walked around reeking of, well, themselves, and so for someone to notice, and then destroy the smell with a spell or a potion seemed a bit odd . . . unless they expected to run into a werewolf.  
  
The paranoia switch in Lupin's brain switched on high. His urge was to run down to the dungeons to figure out this Hardy Boys type mystery while a part of it's brain, referring to itself as logic, begged him to reconsider. After a short mental battle where logic reigned supreme, Lupin forced himself back to his offices where a slight growl from the middle of his chest argued it's disapproval.  
  
Meanwhile, a particularly anxious Head of House wadded through the crowds of children back to his office and his personal dungeon. Closing the door behind him, he sat in a chair and closed a book, entitled the /iSense of Smell and Why Wizards Care/i before restoring it to the proper place on his vast row of bookshelves. After pacing around the room, eyeing the limp form lying in the prison like bed, Snape decided the best way to appear normal was to continue with his usual routine and go to lunch, as if nothing was wrong.  
  
As the door to Snape's quarters shut behind him and the proper wards were put in place, Hermione's eyelids fluttered reluctantly before opening. Her head cried in protest as she opened her eyes and allowed the light to harass her corneas. The sight of Slytherin's most eligible bachelor and potentially homicidal, psychotic bastard's quarters were normal to Hermione now, as sad as it may be. Hoping that the god's dealt a hand in her favor, she stuck a hand out, feeling the invisible reinforcements before pulling it back. She sat herself up to find a plate inserted in her cage with the usual Hogwart's breakfast and a large glass of much wanted orange juice. Greedily, she gulped the contents of the plate and the glass down. Lying on her back, she chewed on the last piece of ham, longing for a toothbrush and a lavatory before reminding herself that there may be more important things to worry about.  
  
The previous night, before knocking her on her arse with a particularly strong spell, Snape had mentioned something about how everyone stopped looking for her. While it helped to hold on to the lame hope that there was a search party combing the castle for her, it seemed like whoever did care enough to look had given up. Perhaps there was some truth in the bastard's claims, in which case she might never be found. Despite the fact there was no visible hope to be cling onto, Hermione tried to stay strong. There was no way in hell was she going to die in a bed with obnoxious green blankets. 


End file.
